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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27531544">Fists Talk Louder</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TAFKAmayle/pseuds/TAFKAmayle'>TAFKAmayle</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Biting, Crimes &amp; Criminals, Denial of Feelings, Fighting, Hand Jobs, Hate Sex, Jealousy, M/M, Name-Calling, Poor Life Choices, Rough Sex, Tattoos, Unhealthy Relationships</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-08 06:42:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>44,433</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27531544</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TAFKAmayle/pseuds/TAFKAmayle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael has been an underground fighter for many years and yet somehow never met a man like Rimmy Tim. Reading an opponent has become easy for Michael, but Rimmy quickly proves nearly impossible to understand. Once Michael begins coaching him, he feels like he’s learning less about him instead of more.</p><p>TW: This fic contains a Ryan Haywood character.</p><p>Dedicated to my patron saints Cali, who suggested the underground fighting ring setting and J, who helped provide more details. As always, your support is invaluable.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>102</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>61</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael slammed his shot of tequila and rolled his shoulders. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Rimmy Tim,” Gavin grunted, suddenly beside him, “What the bloody hell kind of name is that?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael snorted as Gavin sat at the bar.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thought you were busy,” he muttered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, he was premature,” Gavin snorted, “Aren’t you happy to see me, boi?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Of course,” Michael answered, “You’re my favorite dumbass whore.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And you’re my favorite dumb asshole,” Gavin countered, grinning, “But really who’s this Rimmy?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He gestured at the chalkboard where “Mogar” and “Rimmy Tim” were written together.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Dunno, he’s new,” Michael grunted, rubbing his sore shoulder, “Haven’t actually seen him at all yet.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Shall I scout him out, boi?” Gavin offered, “Find out if it’s Rimmy for rimjobs?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael rolled his eyes.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t need you to fuck him,” he snorted, “There’s no time anyway.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Blimey, is it that late?” Gavin muttered, checking his watch, “Yipes, you’re right, I couldn’t even get a handy in that time.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Anyway, I have a match to win,” Michael grumbled, roughly tousling Gavin’s hair, “Don’t fuck anyone and I’ll give you a ride home.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He hated when Gavin stunk up his car with the smell of sex. If he had to smell it, he should damn well be participating in it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Aye, aye, boi!” Gavin snapped off, giving him a two-finger salute.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael was in a perpetual state of rolling his eyes around Gavin. He moved to the ring and got in his corner, rolling his shoulders. One more match and he could go home, fuck his hand in the shower, and sleep. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Ding ding!</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael stepped forward, to the center of the ring and finally focused on his opponent. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s1">Short.</span> </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hi there,” Rimmy Tim greeted, waving a hand, “Mogar, right?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He grinned at Michael, his brown eyes sparkling. He was a lot more pleasing to look at than most of Michael’s opponents.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes,” Michael grunted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m Rimmy, good to meet you,” Rimmy introduced, holding out a hand.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael gripped it briefly. The guy was broad and heavily muscled. <em>Firm.</em> He could no doubt give and take a beating. But being broad and muscled, he’d be slow and inflexible. Michael could outrun the kid easily enough. The kid in question’s lips shifted from a grin to a smirk. He apparently knew something Michael didn’t. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Ding ding!</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael considered that as they readied up, shifting into fight stances. That smirk was the smirk of someone who thought they were about to surprise Michael with hidden skill. Someone who was used to surprising people with hidden skill. Someone who had assumptions made on them that they used to their advantage. So the little tank was quick and/or flexible then. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Ding ding!</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael twisted and caught Rimmy’s ankle as his foot swung at his hip. Rimmy’s eyes widened in surprise. Michael had to admit he was <em>much</em> faster than he’d originally assumed. Just as strong as he thought though, the force behind the kick shocking up Michael’s arm. Michael released his ankle and they reset. Rimmy’s face split into a wild grin and Michael felt his own lips twitch up. <em>Alright, kid, show me what you really got.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy jabbed and Michael turned to avoid it, blocking the hook from his other arm and delivering his own jab to Rimmy’s gut. Rimmy wheezed and Michael pressed him, throwing several quick jabs at his sternum that he shuffled backward to avoid. He seemed to realize a second before he stepped out of bounds what was happening and quickly planted his feet. Michael landed one of the weak jabs to his sternum and he gasped, wobbling but not stepping back.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael threw a hook at Rimmy’s face that he blocked and countered with an uppercut to Michael’s chin. Michael failed to block as he’d been trying to sneak in his own upper. He grunted as the fist slammed his chin, rattling his brain and making him stumble back. <em>Damn, the little shit hits hard!</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy grinned at him before spinning, sweeping his foot toward Michael’s head. His punches weren’t that quick, but his kicks were like lightning. It made sense, considering how built his shoulders and arms were, that they’d be slower. Michael just barely managed to duck, Rimmy’s foot brushing over his hair as it passed. The kid leapt off his other foot, for a moment completely in the air as he sent that foot at Michael’s elbow. His feet hit at the same time, one on the floor and one just above Michael’s elbow. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael flew to the side, but managed to just barely kept on his feet. <em>Holy fucking shit that hurt!</em> Michael was pretty sure he nearly broke his arm. Might’ve if Michael didn’t have a metal rod reinforcing it. Rimmy was facing away from Michael as he steadied himself. He was obviously used to that being a KO move. That gave Michael a split second to catch him off guard.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tackling him wasn’t going to do it, the kid was a brick wall. So he went for a chokehold instead. He looped his arm around Rimmy’s neck and Rimmy immediately tried to flip him over his head. Michael squeezed, looping his other arm under Rimmy’s armpit and moving that hand behind Rimmy’s head, shoving him down into the crook of Michael’s other elbow. Rimmy’s not trapped elbow slammed into Michael’s unprotected side causing him to wheeze alongside him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy struggled a moment and then quite suddenly pushed his ass up against Michael’s cup and wiggled side-to-side. From the outside it could’ve looked accidental, but from where Michael was, the motion was deliberate, purposeful. Rimmy was shaking his ass against Michael’s crotch, trying to distract him. This seemed to be confirmed by Rimmy’s words.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Th-That a cup or you ha-happy to s-see me?” He choked out.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael saw red and slammed his shin into the back of Rimmy’s knee. Rimmy dropped hard into the choke and Michael released him, front kicking him in the back to send him to the floor. He smacked into the floor, wheezing and coughing.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Ding ding!</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael gripped Rimmy’s arm and hauled him up before storming off to the locker room. Once there, he grabbed Rimmy‘s shirt and slammed him against the lockers.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What the hell were you trying to pull, huh?” He demanded.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I-I have no idea what y-you’re talking about!” Rimmy huffed, shoving at Michael’s hand fisted in his shirt.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t play dumb with me, you fucking whore!” Michael hissed, “You tried to fucking seduce me!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I did not!” Rimmy protested, “You’re f-fucking crazy!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t fucking lie to me!” Michael growled, shoving him harder into the lockers.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy grunted, scowling at him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I didn’t do shit!” He insisted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Then he shoved Michael’s arm aside and slammed a jab into his sternum. Michael gasped and stumbled backwards into the lockers on the other side. Rimmy followed, shoving him hard against the metal. Michael grunted, then grabbed Rimmy’s biceps and spun them around, slamming him against lockers again. Rimmy struggled a second as Michael pinned him by his arms. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He stilled, his chest heaving as he panted. Michael was panting too, breathless. They locked eyes, breathing heavily and glaring at each other. Then they smashed together, teeth clacking as their heads practically slammed together, mouths urgent. Their hips jammed together, their cups smacking against each other. They both moved away to get a hand in their shorts to yank them off, without letting their sloppy mouths part. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Once their cups were on the ground, Rimmy twisted them again, shoving Michael up against the lockers. Michael growled in his mouth and twisted them back, grinding his hips into Rimmy’s to stop the noise of protest. He shoved his hand in Rimmy’s shorts and wrapped it around his hard cock. Rimmy moaned, shuddering and quickly returned the favor, getting his hand around Michael’s dick. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Their mouths went clumsier, teeth nipping lightly. Their lips slowed until they were doing little else but breathing into each other’s mouths as they jerked each other off. Michael thought his blood was on fire, he was hot all over. Sweating, panting, and groaning. He couldn’t remember ever simultaneously wanting to kiss and beat someone so badly before. The thought that Rimmy was moaning under his touch after just fighting him was sending shivers up his spine.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The sound Rimmy made when he came over Michael’s hand was beautiful. A breathless groan that sounded like pure relief and bliss. Michael’s own grunt was ugly by comparison. Michael moved his mouth off Rimmy’s, dropping his head to the lockers over one of Rimmy’s shoulders and bracing his free hand over the other. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fuck,” he huffed, struggling to catch his breath.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy snorted and shoved him aside. Michael let go of him, turning to free him from where he was trapping him against the lockers. Rimmy wiped his hand off on Michael’s shirt before moving away.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Asshole,” Michael grumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy laughed as he scooped up his cup and moved over to his locker. He didn’t even look that fazed. He looked energized, if anything. <em>Jesus, this kid has more energy than a battery.</em> Michael moved to his own locker, wiping his hand on his already soiled shirt. <em>Fucking Christ, what the hell did I just do??</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">~</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Dude, you look like hell,” Ray snorted as Michael came in, “What happened to you?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Had a fight with a brick wall,” Michael grunted, rolling his sleeve down over the bruise, “Turns out brick walls fight back.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Deceptively defensive those walls,” Ray muttered, “Did you win at least?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael paused as he swiped his ID card.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I think that’s a matter of perspective,” he mumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Matter of perspective,” Ray repeated, “That’s like the smartest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Asshole,” Michael grumbled, punching in his code, “Why aren’t you working? Don’t you have paperwork?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Paperwork’s for losers,” Ray scoffed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No wonder you do so much of it,” Michael sneered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Interesting point,” Ray muttered, “Follow up: fuck you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael snorted and rolled his eyes as he headed off to the shop floor. His body ached way more than usual the day after a fight. He pressed his fingers against the massive, painful bruise on his arm. Rimmy was good. <em>Too</em> good. Michael could lose if they fought again since Rimmy would know his moves now. His hits were incredible. Michael had never been hit so hard in his life. And his legs were so fucking fast. Despite obviously being green to fighting, Michael was outmatched for sure. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">God, he wanted to fight him again. It was so damn exhilarating, fighting someone who could beat him. It’d been a long time since Michael had felt this outmatched. It was probably why he made that mistake in the locker room. Adrenaline pumping through him, Rimmy’s big eyes staring up at him, face flushed, hair sweaty, chest heaving. It wasn’t Michael’s fault looking wrecked from fighting looked so similar to looking wrecked from fucking. He just needed to stay away from Rimmy after they fought next time. No more mistakes like that could happen.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yeah, this can only end well.</p><p>Check me out on Twitter @1stworldmutant and follow the pinned tweet to find out how to become a patron saint and get new chapters a day early, plus bonus drafts that don’t always make it to print!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael held the cold glass of whisky against his sore jaw. He regret letting that hook land. Tactically it worked: he’d won the round faster, but he could’ve just dodged it and won the round slower. Not that he was one for dodging <em>that</em> much. He was a masochist after all. At least he thought he was. Why else would he let himself get hit so damn much? </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Ding ding!</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael glanced over at the ring and found Rimmy Tim there. He was facing someone much bigger than him. Titan, Michael thought they called the guy. No doubt Titan assumed Rimmy was much faster, considering how tiny he was in comparison. Rimmy’s tactic of surprising speed wouldn’t work there. Michael got up to move closer, curious as to Rimmy’s adaptability. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy smiled up at Titan as he introduced himself. They shook hands and Rimmy touched Titan’s forearm with his other hand. Michael couldn’t tell what he was saying, but he was fluttering his eyelashes enough that he got the idea. Rimmy’s tactic with much bigger opponents was apparently to charm them. Titan did not look very into it though. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Ding ding!</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They readied, going into fight stances and Michael wove his way through the crowd to get closer. He noted Rimmy’s knowing smirk was in place again. So maybe charm wasn’t the game. Maybe Rimmy was pretending to be soft, planning on surprising his opponent with strength. Or maybe Rimmy just always looked like he was assured of his victory. He did seem pretty cocky. <em>The little shit.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Ding ding!</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Titan went for a jab right off. Michael blinked and almost completely missed Rimmy’s first move. He’d twisted and gripped Titan’s wrist then he was in the air again, sailing up. One leg went under Titan’s extended arm and the other over his opposite shoulder. He tucked his ankle under his knee and Titan choked as Rimmy’s thick thighs squeezed around him. He gave into his initial panic reaction which was to claw at Rimmy’s leg with the arm not being twisted by him. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Come on, sweetheart!” Rimmy laughed, “Gonna need more stamina than that if you wanna keep up with me!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael rolled his eyes, taking a drink of his whiskey. <em>Arrogant little shit. </em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s the little shit you beat?” Gavin’s voice suddenly spoke next to him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael actually jumped a little in surprise this time.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Will you stop fucking sneaking up on me??” He grumbled, “And yeah, Rimmy Tim.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mm, he’s cute,” Gavin hummed, putting his arm in Michael’s shoulder, “Introduce me to those pretty thighs, boi.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael looked over at him. Actually, that was a great idea. If <em>Gavin</em> fucked him, Michael would be safe. He could fight Rimmy and then Gavin could fuck him to stop him from having another mistake. Michael smiled at Gavin. Having a whore best friend might turn out in his favor for once. Gavin brightened, wiggling his fingers. Michael looked back at the ring to see Rimmy grinning at Gavin, giving him a wave back and a wink from his perch on Titan. <em>He’s interested. Good. </em>Titan slammed his fist into Rimmy’s ribs and the man grunted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, that’s not nearly hard enough,” he snorted, “You’re weakening, buddy, just tap out.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Titan tilted forward like he was starting to slam Rimmy into the ground. Rimmy grinned, eyes wide in a manic sort of look. Michael suppressed the urge to shudder. Rimmy had expected Titan to make this move. He dropped, swinging around Titan’s arm and shoving his knees into the man’s back. As Titan wobbled forward, Rimmy pushed his feet into him and sprang off him, landing on his hands as Titan slammed into the ground. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Ding ding!</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy cartwheeled onto his feet and turned to offer Titan a hand up. Titan took it and muttered something to Rimmy that made him laugh. Rimmy shook his hand and patted his shoulder, saying something in return. Titan clapped his back, jarring him forward, but Rimmy just laughed it off. He waved before turning toward Michael and Gavin, making his way over. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Long time no see, Mogar,” he greeted before turning to Gavin, “And may I know the pleasure of your name?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He held his hand out and Gavin took it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Gold’s what my friends call me,” Gavin answered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy brought Gavin’s hand to his lips and kissed his knuckles.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mine call me Rimmy,” he returned, “But <em>you</em> can call me whatever you like.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Gavin giggled and Rimmy put an arm around his waist. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How about I buy you a drink?” He offered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’d like that a lot,” Gavin agreed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As they started to walk away, Rimmy knocked shoulders with Michael, jarring him to the side. It was too hard to be an accident. Michael glared at him as they moved past. <em>Asshole.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">~</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy was grinning at Michael as they readied up. Michael glanced around to double-check that Gavin was still there and not getting picked up by any other douchebags. He wasn’t and was actually near the ring, watching the fight. He apparently really liked Rimmy. <em>Thank god.</em> Michael was in the clear. <em>No mistakes tonight. </em>He turned back to Rimmy who was scowling at him now.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Ding ding!</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael leaned back to avoid the foot that swung upward toward his chin. He grabbed Rimmy’s ankle and made to sweep his other leg only to have that one launch toward his chin as well. He let go and stepped back to avoid it. Rimmy landed on his hands and flipped back to his feet before dashing forward. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael twisted to avoid the jab at his sternum, gripping Rimmy’s wrist. Rimmy’s free hand jabbed as Michael’s did as well and they both landed hard blows on each other. Michael, grunting at the fist to his ribs, had an easier recovery than Rimmy who took Michael’s jab to his sternum, wheezing. As he staggered back, Michael yanked him back forward, slamming his fist into Rimmy’s face. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fucking Christ!” Rimmy hissed, “Watch the money maker!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael rolled his eyes. Rimmy broke his hold on his wrist and slammed his shin into his guts, sending him stumbling back a few steps. Michael wheezed and threw his arm up to block Rimmy’s right hook, countering with an upper that Rimmy caught. Michael knocked his arms to the sides and slammed his forehead into Rimmy’s. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fuck!” Rimmy exclaimed, staggering back, “The hell is your skull made of?!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael slammed a hook into his face before he could recover properly and Rimmy retaliated by trying to tackle Michael. Michael gripped his shirt, intending to toss Rimmy on his ass, but Rimmy’s legs snapped around his waist and he bent backwards. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy’s hands slammed on the floor and he heaved. Then <em>Michael</em> was airborne for a change, tossed over Rimmy as his legs sent him flying. Michael landed into a roll, managing not to lose by ending up flattened on the floor.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, hello, immovable object,” Rimmy huffed from where he was still doing a handstand, “We’re about to settle some theories. This unstoppable force is definitely gonna win this round.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael wanted to beat the daylights out of the cocky little shit. Rimmy grinned as he cartwheeled to his feet and brought his fists up.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’s wrong, immovable?” He taunted, “Tiring out already?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">No, Michael was just waiting for him to strike next. Though yes, he was fucking exhausted, his body was aching, and he was fucking hard, of course. He tried to ignore that he was harder than he usually was as he glanced over to make sure Gavin was still there. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He got a front kick to the guts that bent him over and a knee to the mouth that made him bite his tongue. He gripped Rimmy’s leg as he wheezed, yanking to bring him forward and slammed his hand into Rimmy’s chin, making him bite his own tongue in return. Rattled, Rimmy didn’t recover quick enough as Michael kicked out his other leg and he dropped to the floor. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He grunted, turning to spit blood as he glared up at Michael. Michael fucking <em>throbbed</em> with longing. Rimmy was breathless, flushed, and sweaty, his brown eyes full of fire and his legs spread to either side of Michael’s feet. He was making the sexiest image Michael had ever seen in his life. One of reluctant submission. He wanted to order him on his knees and grip his hair as he claimed his prize for winning. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael’s head jerked around for Gavin, hoping beyond all hope that he and his sluttiness could be useful to him for a change. As he started to offer Rimmy a hand up to hurriedly push him toward Gavin, Rimmy swept his legs. He grunted as he landed hard on his still bruised arm. Rimmy got up and grabbed his arm to yank him to his feet. Now he was dragging <em>Michael</em> to the locker room, shoving <em>Michael</em> against the lockers.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You should pay attention!” He snapped.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I was,” Michael grunted, frowning.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Y-You weren’t!” Rimmy insisted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He shoved Michael hard against the lockers with a frustrated noise and smashed his mouth on his. His teeth nipped at Michael’s lips and his tongue tasted like Michael’s: whiskey and blood. Michael gripped at Rimmy’s shirt, pressing against him. <em>Give me my prize.</em> He twisted, slamming Rimmy against the lockers and getting his hand in Rimmy’s shorts. He practically ripped his cup off him and tossed it to get his hand around Rimmy’s cock. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy tore his mouth off Michael’s to gasp and Michael kissed at his neck, scrapping his teeth over his skin. Rimmy groaned as Michael nipped at him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Little whore,” Michael taunted in his ear.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“F-Fuck you!” Rimmy groaned.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael grinned against his ear and swiped his thumb over the tip of Rimmy’s cock. Rimmy groaned, hips jerking up. <em>God, he sounds so good. More, show me more.</em> Michael bit harder at his neck and Rimmy ripped Michael’s shirt and let out a beautiful moan as he came. Michael backed up at step and Rimmy slid down the lockers to the floor, panting. Michael tossed his cup and braced his hand on the lockers as he jerked off inches from Rimmy’s face.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“O-Open your mouth,” he huffed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“In your dreams, immovable,” Rimmy snarled. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael groaned as he came on Rimmy’s face. He looked down and shivered. Rimmy glared at him as Michael’s come dripped down his pretty face. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Asshole,” he grumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You ripped my shirt,” Michael pointed out.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Then we’re even, immovable,” Rimmy snorted as he stood back up.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He used Michael’s ruined shirt to wipe his face off. Michael gave him a dry look as he pulled away with a dry face. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I hate you,” Michael muttered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ha!” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They changed and left the locker room, meeting up with Gavin. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why’d you bloody run off?” He huffed, “I thought you were ditching me!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ditching <em>you?”</em> Rimmy snorted, putting his arm around Gavin, “I would never. I’m very eager to get you home.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Gavin giggled as they started off toward the door and Michael scowled. <em>He’s still going to fuck him after that??</em> Gavin peeked over his shoulder.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, I don’t need a ride tonight boi!” He exclaimed, “I didn’t think to say anything earlier.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, I think Gold’s gonna give <em>me</em> a ride,” Rimmy sneered over his shoulder, “So <em>you</em> are not needed.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael glared at him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So forward,” Gavin giggled, “I like you, Rimmy.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael wanted to barf. <em>Stupid short little brat!</em></span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Good decisions made by team Short Temper and nothing bad or ill-advised happens.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Beep, beep! Beep, beep! Beep, beep! </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael slapped at his phone, trying to turn off the alarm. He groaned miserably, poking his head up to grab it and turn it off. He forgot to turn off the fucking alarm for work. After the alarm was off, he saw a flood of messages from Gavin.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>From Boi: OMG Rimmy was sooo good last night! </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>From Boi: And he can last allllll night. OMG Energizer bunny!</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>From Boi: And it is totally Rimmy for rimjobs.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>From Boi: God, his tongue is amazing.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>From Boi: Such a biter too. Practically bit me in half. He’s great with his mouth. </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael looked down at his crotch.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t think anyone invited you,” he told his boner, “You didn’t even RSVP. Fuck off.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This was not the first time Gavin had messaged him after he’d had a good night. Not the first time Michael’s dick had been interested in Gavin’s descriptions either. He wasn’t exactly attracted to Gavin, but he wasn’t <em>not</em> attracted to him either. Not that that’s what this situation was about. It was obviously about that little twerp. He looked back at the messages.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s1">To Boi: You need a rabies shot?</span> </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s1">From Boi: OMG LOL</span> </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s1">From Boi: Oh! He’s a switch too! We went back and forth. I can’t remember when I last topped.</span> </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s1">From Boi: And HE gave ME a ride. ;)</span> </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael threw his arm over his eyes. <em>Damnit, Gavin! Why’d you have to fucking tell me that?? </em>Michael firmly made himself wait until later when he was in the shower to jerk off thinking about Rimmy riding him all night. <em>Get out of my fucking head, you little whore! </em>Rimmy just grinned in his mind. <em>Asshole.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">~</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael rubbed at his ribs as he looked around the club. The bruise was past the worst of it, but only a week later, it was still tender. God, Rimmy could hit. If he could just learn a bit more control, he’d really be that unstoppable force. The only reason Michael won was experience. And Rimmy wasn’t very good at blocking. Thus far he probably hadn’t had to use much more than his raw talent. He was getting better fast though. <em>Quick learner. </em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Boi, you made it!” Gavin chirped, jarring him from his thoughts.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He was wearing particularly eye-catching makeup that night, golden eyeliner and smoke-like eyeshadow. His earring was the pair of gold dice one that sparkled and drew the eye regardless of the amount of light in the place. <em>Whose attention is he trying to get tonight?</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why am I here again?” Michael grunted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Because you love me?” Gavin offered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael turned to leave and Gavin grabbed his hoodie.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Free drinks?” He tried instead.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael reluctantly turned back around and let himself be guided toward Gavin’s double date. He wasn’t totally sure why Gavin needed another couple, especially a fake one, but he found more often than not, questioning Gavin was useless. They stopped at the booth in question and found the other two already there. Michael almost immediately tried to leave again.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, immovable,” Rimmy greeted, grinning up at him, “And here I thought this was a total blind date.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Gavin, let’s go get that drink you promised me,” Michael grunted, gripping Gavin’s arm.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He marched him over to the bar.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why the fucking shit is he here??” He hissed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“My friend’s looking for fighters,” Gavin answered, “Don’t tell Rimmy, though, it’s supposed to be a secret. He wants to feel you out.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael frowned at him, glancing back at the table. He couldn’t see the other guy from that angle.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Who is this guy?” He muttered, “This sounds sketchy as fuck.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He’s Kingpin,” Gavin explained, “The guy that owns this place. And a lot of other places too. He’s really high on the food chain, boi. And apparently he’s like the <em>best</em> boss to work for.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael’s frown deepened and they ordered as he considered it. <em>Kingpin. That sounds familiar.</em> Michael was unnerved that he’d heard the name, but couldn’t connect it to anything.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And I assume he’s not after you for your fists?” He grumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nope, but not for my body either,” Gavin laughed, “He’s hiring me for my actual skills. It <em>has</em> been known to happen.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">Michael wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“But if he offers, I’m all over it,” Gavin added as they collected their drinks, “I love tattoos.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Since when?” Michael snorted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Since the Energizer bunny,” Gavin giggled, “He’s got some sweet tattoos I got to see a lot of.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t call him that,” Michael grumbled as they started back.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He didn’t want to talk about why “bunny” was a trigger word for a flood of inappropriate thoughts. The reason was he’d typed it into a porn site and suddenly found himself scrolling through bunny themed lingerie picturing Rimmy wearing it while he bounced on Michael’s cock. Talk about a <em>rabbit</em> hole he wished he hadn’t jumped in.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He is sooo energetic though,” Gavin huffed, “I mean, <em>I</em> couldn’t even keep up. I was knackered afterwards. I didn’t have sex again for three days.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael didn’t stand a chance in that case. Not that he was going to try. When they got back, Gavin slid in on the side of King, a man with hand tattoos and blue eyes and Michael sat next to Rimmy, regretting his entire life. Rimmy leaned forward to brace his forearms on the table and an earring swung from his ear, catching Michael’s eye. It was a clear red droplet, like blood, dripping from a thin, short chain. <em>That’s new. </em>His hair looked a bit longer and messier too, like he was starting to grow it out.<em> <em>Guess he’s trying a new look.</em></em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Gold, you didn’t say your friend was Mogar,” Kingpin spoke up.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael raised an eyebrow at him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know you, tats?” He grunted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, but you used to fight a friend of mine,” the man answered, “And you can call me King.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Who’s your friend?” Michael grunted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Vagabond, wears a mask,” King answered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, Blue, I remember him,” Michael confirmed, “Strong guy. Quick. All legs.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He spoke highly of you,” King commented, “Seemed to think you were pretty good.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Was that where Michael had heard this guy’s name before? Michael didn’t recall doing a <em>lot</em> of talking with Vagabond though.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Shucks, you’ll make me blush,” he snorted, taking a drink, “But yeah, I’d like to think I’m decent.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">King was looking at Michael pretty steadily, seeming to be appraising him. Then he looked at Rimmy who had a deck of cards in his hands suddenly for some fucking reason.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’ve fought Mogar, I take it?” King prompted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Twice,” Rimmy confirmed, shuffling the cards, “This is from him.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He turned his face slightly, probably showing off the bruise on his face, but Michael couldn’t see it from his angle. <em>What a shame. </em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So are you on friend or rival terms?” King questioned.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Arch nemesis terms,” Rimmy and Michael answered together.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They glanced at each other and Rimmy smirked. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Glad to see we’re on the same page,” he mused, “It’s twenty-one, in case you wondered.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He started to deal the cards to play blackjack. Michael stopped him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, my boi doesn’t play,” he muttered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’re you, his dad?” Rimmy snorted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, he’s right,” Gavin chimed in, “I don’t play cards any more.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Gambler?” Rimmy guessed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Something like that,” Gavin chuckled nervously.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I see I’m prying,” Rimmy muttered, “Someone quick ask me a personal question to even the odds.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why the hell do you fight underground?” Michael blurted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Fuck. Don’t ask him about himself like this is an actual fucking date!</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s where the real fights are,” Rimmy answered, shrugging as he shuffled the cards, “I don’t get nearly as many bruises like this one in official rings.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He pointed out his bruised face.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So you’re a masochist and a thrill-seeker,” King guessed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Something like that,” Rimmy muttered, “Are you gonna offer us the job or what?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He shuffled the cards in his hands, eyebrow raised at King. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I need one fighter,” King answered, “Meaning I <em>don’t</em> need both of you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael started to say Rimmy could have the job, but King cut him off.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“However, I’m facing a bit of a dilemma,” he continued, “I want your raw talent.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He pointed at Rimmy.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And your lengthy experience,” he added, pointing to Michael, “I don’t <em>need</em> both of you, but I <em>want</em> both of you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy and Michael glanced at each other.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’s this job about?” Michael questioned, “Why would you want talent <em>and</em> experience?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“There’s a fighting ring,” King explained, “The best of the best, hosted by the richest in San Andreas.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You mean the Golden League,” Michael guessed, “Best of the best, but also the fucking sketchiest of all. They fight to the death in that ring.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Uh, I’m not sure I’m cool with that,” Rimmy chimed in.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“The rules state incapacitation counts,” Gavin spoke up, “It’s allowed to leave your opponent alive. But it’s highly encouraged to finish them off.”<br/>
</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael didn’t like that Gavin knew that.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So then we’d be fighting for our lives,” Rimmy muttered, “Even if <em>we</em> don’t kill anyone.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, that’s correct,” King admitted, “But I’m not asking for a full circuit. I need to infiltrate the ring.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why not use Vagabond?” Michael asked, crossing his arms, “He’s a fighter <em>and</em> a killer.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m still trying to convince him to call me his friend,” King grumbled, “And even <em>he</em> lost to you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So did I,” Rimmy pointed out bitterly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Only because you’re green,” Michael corrected before he could stop himself, “What’s your role, boi?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He was more than a little concerned about Gavin getting involved with these assholes.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh you know, this and that,” Gavin answered breezily, “Arm candy, mostly.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He looped his arm around King’s and pressed his cheek to his shoulder. King and Michael both raised an eyebrow at him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay, I <em>might</em> be helping with some hacking and grifting,” Gavin admitted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael sighed. <em>Of fucking course. </em>Now he <em>had</em> to say yes if he wanted to be nearby to protect Gavin. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll train Greenblood,” he offered begrudgingly, “But I can’t promise I won’t throttle him before this is over.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Greenblood, fuck you,” Rimmy grumbled under his breath.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Excellent,” King announced, clapping his hands, “Then we’ll get started right away. Here’s my number and the gym I own.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He pushed a business card across the table at them. Rimmy snatched it up before Michael could.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How much though?” He questioned, “I still didn’t say yes.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mogar, you know about the Golden League,” King murmured, “The two of you will split the winnings of at least three matches and a hefty bonus at the end. I’ll split it however you two choose.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“As your coach, I advise you take that offer,” Michael grunted, snatching the card from Rimmy’s hand, “You own Dregs, huh?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Last I checked,” King snorted, “They’ll be instructed to accommodate you two, so you’re free to begin any time you’re ready. I would suggest not delaying too long, however. You have two months to prepare.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Aye, aye, captain!” Rimmy snapped off, giving him a mock salute.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">King gave him an exasperated look.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I look forward to working with you two,” he muttered, offering his hand to Michael.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael shook it, then Rimmy shook his hand as well. Gavin left with King, wiggling his fingers over his shoulder at them.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So...I thought this was a real date,” Rimmy admitted, “I, uh, need a ride.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He gave Michael a sheepish grin.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Alright, come on,” Michael muttered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not such a bad guy after all, immovable,” Rimmy teased as they left.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Watch it, unstoppable,” Michael grumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As they slid into his car, Michael wondered if he should back out of this job. Gavin could be in trouble alone, but...being so close to Rimmy. <em>That</em> was fucking dangerous.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And “OMG Energizer bunny” becomes a reoccurring phrase. Legitimately. Like wtf. I didn’t go to college for writing just to end up here.<br/>I mean, I didn’t go to college at all, but that’s beside the point.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Come up so we can coordinate this bullshit,” Rimmy grumbled as Michael parked outside his apartment.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why do I have to going inside for that?” Michael muttered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So I can change out of my date clothes,” Rimmy answered, “And I have a physical calendar I write my stuff on.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael followed him up to his apartment. It was fairly empty, actually. He had a couch but no tables or a tv. Not in his living room anyway. He gestured for Michael to follow him down the hallway and into a bedroom which was much more furnished. Here he had a tv with several game systems hooked in. Michael went straight to his game shelf, immediately looking over his collection.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re a gamer?” Rimmy guessed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The sound of rustling clothes seemed to indicate he was changing. Michael kept his eyes firmly on the games.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’d like to think so,” he muttered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Anyway, my calendar’s on the back of the door,” Rimmy grunted, “Check where you can fit in.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael closed the door and looked over the calendar.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Jesus, how do you fight <em>every</em> night??” He demanded. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I go to different rings,” Rimmy explained.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, dumbass, I meant <em>physically,”</em> Michael grumbled, “How do you keep up?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“OMG Energizer bunny!” Rimmy chirped in a British accent.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He told you he called you that?” Michael snorted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Called me that to my face afterwards,” Rimmy murmured, <em>“Then</em> he texted you, after asking if it was alright.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He does try to be a respectful whore,” Michael muttered dryly, “Anyway, I’m off on Tuesdays. You don’t do anything before five, it looks like. We can train at four.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ugh, you’re gonna make me get up early,” Rimmy huffed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He shuffled over and squinted at his calendar.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll just postpone my Tuesday fights,” he offered, “How’s six?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fine,” Michael agreed, “Please put clothes on.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’d prefer to leave them off,” Rimmy mused, turning to raise an eyebrow at him, “In fact, I think maybe you should take yours off too.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He took a hold of Michael’s hoodie zipper and slowly dragged it down. Michael struggled to keep his eyes on Rimmy’s. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What do I gotta do to get you hot, huh?” Rimmy wondered, stepping closer.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He ran his hands up Michael’s chest and pushed Michael’s hoodie off his shoulders.It slid off his arms and dropped to the floor. Rimmy’s nose brushed against Michael’s as he started undoing his belt. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do I really need to fight you?” He whispered, “Is that the only way?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He leaned forward as he moved from Michael’s belt to his jeans. His lips brushed Michael’s ear.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Or shall I talk like this?” He breathed in a British accent, “And call you my boi?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael gripped his biceps and twisted to shove him against the door.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What the fuck are you trying to say?!” He growled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He glanced down as Rimmy’s cock jumped against his thigh. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Did you provoke me so I’d get rough with you?” He grunted, looking back up.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hell yes,” Rimmy huffed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael slammed into him and mouthed hungrily at Rimmy’s pretty lips. He dipped to hoist him up by his perfect ass, shoving him into the door. <em>Damn, he’s heavy. Made of fucking muscle. </em>Rimmy wrapped around him, pressing back against him so eagerly he nearly knocked Michael over. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael twisted again, stumbling toward the bed and dropping onto it. Rimmy broke off his mouth to fumble for something on the nightstand and Michael bit his neck. He shoved a bottle of lube into Michael’s hand and Michael lifted up a bit to push Rimmy’s legs up. Rimmy tugged at Michael’s shirt.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Take it off,” he grumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it, smirking at him. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Watch it, immovable,” Rimmy growled, “Don’t get a big head.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael snorted, rubbing lube between his fingers. Rimmy looked over the plethora of scars across Michael’s torso as Michael pressed his fingers to his asshole. He pushed a finger inside him slowly, but Rimmy didn’t even shift or wince at all. It felt like he wasn’t even really paying attention. Michael felt a flare of annoyance and quickly shoved a second finger in, jerking forward hard. Rimmy hissed, jumping.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“There you go,” he grunted, “Come on, Mogar, you know I’m not fragile.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Bit of a pain slut, aren’t you?” Michael sneered, fingers fucking into Rimmy.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“F-Fuck you,” Rimmy growled, “Hurry up!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael leaned over him to grip his face tightly, fingers moving in harsh, jerking movements inside him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Beg for it, you mouthy little whore,” he growled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Make me, bitch,” Rimmy spat back.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael smashed his mouth back over Rimmy’s, shoving a third finger inside him and getting choked off snarl from the younger man. Then he arched off the bed, moaning beautifully into Michael’s mouth. <em>God, he sounds amazing.</em> Michael bit his lip hard enough to draw blood as he pulled his hand away to get himself out of his pants. He barely paused long enough to rub lube over himself before lining up. Rimmy grunted as Michael pressed his cock up to his asshole. He ripped his mouth off Michael’s as he pressed inside.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“C-Come on, immovable,” he groaned through his teeth, sounding strained, “That, nng, all y-you got?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael sank his teeth into Rimmy’s neck as he jerked forward. Rimmy gasped, arching up again and nearly dislodging Michael. Michael pressed more firmly down on him through his hips, pinning him harder to the bed. Rimmy groaned in his ear and Michael unclamped his teeth to press a light kiss to the bite mark. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">One of Rimmy’s hands threaded through Michael’s hair while the other held onto his back. He puffed out a shaky breath as Michael kissed his ear gently. Michael ran his hand up Rimmy’s thigh and gripped the sheets in the other, groaning softly. <em>Fuck, he feels so fucking good. </em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I-I’m ready,” Rimmy whimpered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael’s hips started moving almost of their own accord, thrusting desperately, humping Rimmy like he couldn’t stop himself. Rimmy cried out and moaned, his hands quickly turning into claws as Michael fucked into him hard. His body tried to arch up, but Michael held his hips down with one hand while the other gripped his face to keep his head tilted aside. Michael bit him again and he bucked, crying out.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Y-Yes! Fuck yes! H-Harder!” He cried.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael growled against his skin, thrusting hard enough to bang the headboard against the wall. Rimmy nearly bucked him off again and his fingernails raked down Michael’s back. Michael groaned low in his throat as he felt himself drawing near to orgasm faster than he was proud of. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He quickly got a hand between them, panting and groaning as he tried to focus on getting Rimmy off. His head was a cloud of desperately wanting to get off himself and of course Rimmy. He came as Rimmy’s ass tightened around him and he was glad Rimmy came a split second later because he totally slumped over him, panting heavily. He shakily dropped onto his forearms, burying his face in Rimmy’s marked up neck to catch his breath. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fuck, I...” he muttered, breathlessly, “D-Didn’t put on a c-condom.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy snorted as he tried to catch his breath. Michael wobbly leaned over to grab tissues before Rimmy could leak all over his sheets. After mostly cleaning him up, he sat next to where Rimmy had drifted off to sleep.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He was surprised actually. The energizer bunny had run out of battery. Seemed unlikely. Michael’s eyes trailed down Rimmy’s body, stopping to check out his tattoos. He had one on his chest and a matching pair on his thighs. The chest one was fairly simple. It was a bite mark around the words “bite me” in curly letters on his left pec, over his heart. Michael rolled his eyes.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The ones on his thighs though were quite detailed and elaborate. Barbed wire curled around his thighs, starting past his waistline on either side and ending above his knees on his inner thighs. The start of the wire was made to look like it was coming from within his body. Purple, vaguely pentagon-shaped flowers dotted along them as though they were simply two asymmetrical blooming vines rather than dangerously barbed wire. </span>
</p><p class="p1">Michael watched Rimmy’s sleeping face a moment. He looked relaxed, like you’d expect a sleeping person to. Michael reached out a brushed some of his sweaty hair off his forehead. <em>Why does he have to be so fucking pretty?? Infuriating little shit.</em> Michael kissed his cheek and hesitated, considering crawling up next to him and spending the night cuddling.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He shook his head, getting up and quickly gathering his shirt and hoodie. <em>Nope. We’re not doing this. </em>He pulled on his shirt as he exited the room. <em>We are definitely not doing any of this fucking gay bullshit. </em>He pulled on his hoodie as he made it to Rimmy’s front door. He paused again, hand on the doorknob. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>No. I’m not starting something like this. I can’t. I shouldn’t have fucked him, what the hell was I thinking?? </em>He thought back to pressing Rimmy against the door. He’d been thinking something along the lines of “I need to fuck this mouthy little brat before I explode”. He left Rimmy’s apartment, making sure the door was locked behind him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael slipped into his car. It was fine now. He’d gotten Rimmy out of his system. He’d fucked his brains out and now that was that. He didn’t have to worry any more. It was over. They were just a fighter and a coach now. He sighed, dropping his head against the steering wheel.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Who the hell do I think I’m kidding?” He muttered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">~<br/>
</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yo, you look like shit,” Ray greeted Michael as he came in.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Didn’t sleep,” Michael grumbled as he traipsed over to clock-in, “It’s hard to count sheep when all you can think of is a bunny.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re fucking weird, man,” Ray snorted, “What’s up with you lately?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael dropped his head against the wall.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Have you ever hated someone and yet still wanted to fuck the daylights out of them?” He mumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Uh, I’m ace,” Ray pointed out, “So gonna have to say “very unlikely” from the magic 8 ball on that.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Right, I knew that,” Michael muttered, leaning back to swipe his card, “I’m just...in a weird position right now.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Is it downward facing dog?” Ray asked without skipping a beat.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael kicked the rolling chair, sending Ray sideways away from the desk.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh no, I can’t work from over here,” Ray lamented sarcastically, “Oh, man. This really sucks.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m going to wheel you to the dumpster where you belong, you little shit,” Michael warned.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, I definitely won’t be able to work from there,” Ray muttered, “What a tragedy.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I hate you,” Michael grumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, is your bunny the same as Vav’s?” Ray suddenly asked, “The “OMG Energizer bunny” guy?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael sighed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, it’s the same guy,” he admitted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How the hell did <em>you</em> keep up?” Ray wondered as he scooted back to his desk, “Vav said even <em>he</em> needed a breather.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I think I caught him on an off day,” Michael snorted, “He passed out right afterward.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Maybe bunnies can’t keep up with wolves,” Ray suggested.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Shut up,” Michael grunted, turning to get to work, “Don’t you have work??”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not if I can help it,” Ray muttered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael rolled his eyes. It seemed like that’s all he ever did around his friends.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The long-awaited boink. And by “long-awaited” I mean by my standards because slow-burns are for betas. ✌️</p><p>Anyway, I’m considering a new posting schedule that might seem a bit confusing. I’m considering working on four stories at once, posting them half and half on alternating days. So I’d post stories one and two on the first day, then stories three and four on the second day, then back to one and two on the third day, and so on. (Just to be extra clear: I would still be posting only two chapters daily.)</p><p>This is mostly because I have sooo many stories in the works rn and I want to work on a bigger variety while still maintaining a productive posting schedule. I might test it out with the current two stories and two new ones, but I still haven’t decided yet. If you have questions or suggestions for me, please comment! I am saying all this because I want to hear your thoughts!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael was beginning to get annoyed when Rimmy finally showed up. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re late,” Michael pointed out as he pushed off his car.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, I fucked up the address in my GPS,” Rimmy grumbled, “Sent me across town.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They started toward the gym’s front door and Michael did <em>not</em> notice that Rimmy had a new earring. It was a bullet, a 9mm, swinging below his ear lobe. Michael thought it suited him. He also didn’t notice that the marks he’d left on Rimmy’s neck and shoulder were just barely peeking out around the collar of his shirt.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They greeted the front desk person and were directed to the locker room. They had both come already dressed, but Rimmy had a bag that he put in a locker before they headed to the floor. Michael hadn’t brought a change of clothes, having no intention to find himself in a locker room after fighting with Rimmy again.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They did some stretching and warming up before they stepped in the ring. Rimmy looked absolutely delighted to be squaring off against him in a ring again. <em>He is seriously bad for my health. </em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay, your main problem is you don’t block well enough,” Michael muttered, “You’re very sturdy, but in the Golden League you’re not gonna want to let <em>any</em> hits land if you can help it. One hit could be the difference between life and death there.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy nodded his understanding and Michael demonstrated how to block properly. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Definitely take a gut shot over a head shot if you can,” Michael added, moving Rimmy’s arm to block his face better, “You don’t want to go fuzzy or get fully concussed when you’re facing a killer.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re just trying to protect my pretty face,” Rimmy simpered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael considered punching said pretty face to make him shut the fuck up. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I would advise you watch it, taunting your opponents,” he grumbled, moving Rimmy’s arm to block his ribs, “Rage is a powerful tool.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I guess you would know, huh?” Rimmy snorted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael swung toward his face guard and Rimmy successfully blocked, but wobbled sideways at the force of it. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, I would know,” Michael muttered, swinging again.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy blocked again. Michael swung and jabbed a few more times and Rimmy mostly succeeded in blocking the hits. Michael tried more intense methods of getting hits in and Rimmy quickly adapted his blocking to withstand the blows. He was a damn quick learner and that just pissed Michael off. <em>He’s so naturally good, the little shit.</em> The harder Michael tried to hit him, the quicker he adapted to block the hits. He only missed a few and Michael gave him tips on the ones he missed. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Now the better you are at blocking, the easier it is to get around,” Michael pointed out, “Use the knowledge of your own defense to break your opponent’s. Try to hit me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy tried to hit him, catching on quick to the openings Michael purposely gave him to point out where other fighters would accidentally do so. Michael gave him less and less openings, Rimmy struggling to find any way to land a blow. Then Michael surprised him with a counter than he managed to still block. <em>Quick learner, quick reflexes, quick fighter. </em>Rimmy was lightning. He was electrifying, sparking through Michael’s blood, invading his senses with a cloud of his presence. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Suddenly they were centimeters away from each other, breathing heavily. Michael couldn’t stop his eyes from flicking over to where his marks were playing peekaboo under Rimmy’s shirt. He was already hard, but it only got worse as he recalled putting those marks on him. Rimmy gripped his shirt, yanking it aside to show the marks fully.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You should’ve stayed,” he sneered, “You’d have gotten more opportunities to claim me as yours.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael shoved him away.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I wasn’t claiming you,” he blatantly lied, “I was following your instructions.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He tapped over his own heart to indicate the tattoo on Rimmy’s. Rimmy scowled at him and they tensed to fight, circling each other.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t lie to me, immovable,” he growled, “I know you want me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He jerked his chin up and smirked. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You liked taking me for a spin,” he taunted, “Just admit how much you loved it and maybe I’ll give you another ride.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">God, that was appealing. Michael wanted to admit that yes, he fucking loved it just so he could plow him like a snowed-over road again. But he had no desire to give the smug little shit the satisfaction. He’d rather die than give him the satisfaction of knowing that he craved him with every fiber of his being, but most especially with his dick. His dick had a sweet tooth and Rimmy Tim was pure cane sugar.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t get a big head, unstoppable,” he snorted, “A hole’s a hole.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy exploded with rage, face curling into a snarl as he launched at Michael, swinging. Michael blocked easily, Rimmy’s sloppy form coming back in his uncontrolled outburst. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I <em>just</em> taught you better than this!” He snapped, slamming an upper to Rimmy’s ribs, “Even when you’re angry, you need to be in control!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m not angry!” Rimmy snarled, throwing a jab, “I’m <em>annoyed</em> by your lying!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael caught his wrist and yanked him forward, slamming his fist into Rimmy’s face. Rimmy reeled back and fell on his ass, gripping at his face.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fuck!” He shouted, “H-Have you-c-could you hit that hard this whole fucking time?!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael struggled to stop himself from kicking him while he was down. His fists shook at his sides.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Anger is a good thing,” he muttered, “But only if you can control and focus it. Only if you understand how to fucking <em>use</em> it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy stared up at him with wide eyes. Michael offered him a hand up, which he took and got on his feet. He swiped blood from his nose, looking away from Michael. For a brief moment, Michael thought he looked hesitant. <em>Uncertain.</em> The look sent warmth shooting through Michael’s chest with a surge of <em>Something</em> inside him. He quickly turned away.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Th-That’s enough for today,” he murmured, starting to leave the ring, “See you next week.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy didn’t answer him and Michael tried not to look as frantic as he felt as he hurried from the building. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">~</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael was glad he and Rimmy were not talking about it. Things went into a sort of normal for them, their second training session being mostly uneventful. Rimmy was his usual cocky self, but he didn’t mention their fucking any more. It was almost peaceful and Michael was very grateful. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was the third session when things got messy again. Suddenly Rimmy became distracted, looking past Michael, over his shoulder. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Focus, Rimmy,” Michael growled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy slammed his fist into Michael’s guard, but it was with way less power than usual. Michael scowled at him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why’s Gold here?” Rimmy grunted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael straightened out to turn around in surprise. <em>Why <b>is</b> Gavin here?</em> He ducked Rimmy’s wild swing and swept his foot out, sweeping Rimmy’s legs without breaking eye contact with Gavin until he turned back to offer Rimmy a hand up.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Careful where you throw your hits,” he muttered as he helped him up, “You can’t rely on taking someone by surprise. Control, Rimmy.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ugh,” was Rimmy’s response.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael turned back to go see what Gavin wanted, hopping down from the ring and making his way over. Rimmy followed after him for some fucking reason.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’s up, boi?” Michael grunted, twisting to pop his back.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Just coming to see how things are going,” Gavin chirped, “How’s training?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s only been three weeks,” Michael pointed out as he moved to where his water bottle was, “Three sessions is not enough to give you a progress report.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t shoot the messenger,” Gavin huffed, “King wants to know.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why didn’t he come himself?” Rimmy grumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Busy, I guess,” Gavin answered, shrugging, “I see you haven’t killed each other yet.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not for lack of trying,” Michael snorted, “But Rimmy is mostly behaving.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Um, fuck you?” Rimmy offered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Maybe you should,” Gavin suggested brightly, “I’ve liked a lot of people more after fucking them.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not likely,” Michael growled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, actually I think he just hated me more,” Rimmy grumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael looked at him sharply. <em>Idiot!</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh my gosh, you guys already did it?!” Gavin squealed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Did it, what age are you?” Rimmy snorted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Boi, why didn’t you tell me?!” Gavin huffed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Because it wasn’t a big deal,” Michael muttered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“But we’re bois, you’re supposed to tell me stuff!” Gavin whined.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Of course he wouldn’t tell you,” Rimmy sneered, “He’s obviously in l-“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael tackled him to the floor, slamming his fist into his face.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” He hissed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I think you just confirmed I <em>do!”</em> Rimmy growled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He gripped Michael’s fist as it moved to hit him again and shoved, rolling them over so he was on top. He punched Michael in the face.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Just admit it, you pathetic cuck!” He snarled, reeling back to hit him again.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael bucked his hips up and shoved Rimmy sideways, sending him sliding across the smooth floor. They both scrambled to their feet and slammed into each other. They each looped one arm around the other’s neck, their shoulders shoving against each other and slammed their free fists into the other’s ribs. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re so in love with him it’s pathetic!” Rimmy taunted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re full of shit!” Michael snarled, punching him again, “You don’t know shit!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Y-You’re always dropping everything for him!” Rimmy wheezed, hitting him back.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Be-cause he’s m-my best friend!” Michael huffed, punching him again.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wh-Why won’t you j-ust admit it?!” Rimmy choked out. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael shoved forward, hooking an ankle around Rimmy’s to send him to the floor, landing over him. Rimmy made to grab his shirt, presumably to flip them again, but Michael seized his wrists and pinned them to the floor. Rimmy struggled against him, grunting in annoyance.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why do you care so fucking much?!” Michael demanded, “What difference does it make to you?!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy stilled, looking away from him. He glared at the far wall, face red and chest heaving. Michael realized suddenly they were in a <em>very</em> suggestive position. <em>Did he provoke me to get me hot again??</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Er, Micool, what’s going on?” Gavin spoke up, “Why’d you guys start fighting?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael jumped to his feet, quickly backing away from Rimmy like he was made of fire.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“J-Just more training,” Michael muttered breathlessly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy lifted up, showing Michael reluctant submission again, glaring at him. Michael’s blood was on fire. <em>God, I wanna fuck him like he voted for me in the last election. </em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“T-Time’s up,” he mumbled, “S-See you next week.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He started for the door.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wait boi, I need a ride!” Gavin protested.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Get one from Rimmy,” Michael suggested.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He was ready to drop into a sprint to get the hell out of there. He drove several blocks before he had to stop. He pulled over into an alleyway and killed his engine. He gripped his steering wheel tightly and jerked against it like he was trying to shake it. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mother fucking stupid slutty fucking bunny!” He spat as he shook the car with his anger.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He slammed his fist into the dash board and stilled, chest heaving as he tried to gasp in air and calm himself. <em>Stupid fucking Rimmy had to come in with his stupid pretty face and his stupid perfect ass and his stupid hard punches and just fucking ruin everything!</em> Michael dropped his head to his steering wheel. </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> <em>Why does he care about me and Gavin? Why is he always worse when Gavin’s around? Does he like Gavin or something?</em> <span class="Apple-converted-space">He didn’t like that idea for some unknown reason. Except he knew <em>exactly</em> the reason he didn’t like it.</span></span><em>Or maybe he just loves pissing me off when there’s an audience to laugh at my torment. </em>Michael groaned miserably.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>And I’m not in love with Gavin for fuck’s sake! Will people stop saying that?!?!</em></span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Fists Talk Louder also known as Drama: the Fic</p><p>Anyway, I’m starting the new alternating schedule! Two new stories will be posted tomorrow (or today for the patron saints), so be on the look out if you would like to read more of my stuff (psst, it’s a coffee shop/witch au and a sort of evil twin au, if you have any interest).</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael glared around the club as he was led toward VIP. He didn’t want to be there. He didn’t want to see Rimmy outside of training. They’d had another three mostly unremarkable training sessions wherein they both pretended nothing happened. If the pattern continued, now something would happen to throw them off again. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy was in the VIP booth already, because obviously he was. Michael slid in beside him, but did his best to stay as close to the edge as possible while they waited for Gavin and King. Rimmy was shuffling a deck of cards again.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wanna bj while we wait?” He offered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do you have to make everything more sexual than it is?” Michael grumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, I meant blackjack,” Rimmy informed him unnecessarily, “What you thought is on you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael gave him an exasperated look while he grinned, starting to deal the cards. <em>Whoa, he’s wearing makeup,</em> Michael <em>didn’t</em> notice. Black eyeliner and purple eyeshadow. It seemed like he might have something on his lips too, but it was hard to tell in the dark lighting of the club. He had a new earring too, one with several sparkling gemstones, possibly diamonds, dangling from thin silver chains. <em>Very eye-catching.</em> Very unfitting for Rimmy. Actually the makeup didn’t seem to fit him either. Michael almost wanted to tell him so. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How about a bet to make this bj interesting?” Rimmy suggested.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael looked down at his face up card, the Jack of Spades.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Like what?” He grunted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Like winner asks the loser a question,” Rimmy explained, “Loser has to answer truthfully.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael rolled his eyes.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fine,” he grumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Better than just sitting here staring at your pretty face.</em> He checked his face down card and dropped the ace of diamonds down, face up.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Blackjack.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So ask me a question!” Rimmy chirped as he gathered up the cards.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’s with your thigh tats?” Michael blurted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy’s eyebrows went up in surprise.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, the flowers are morning glories,” he explained, “I chose them ironically, because I have a shit relationship with sleep. A morning glory closes at night, like it’s sleeping, but if it’s tattooed...”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s forced to stay awake,” Michael guessed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Right,” Rimmy confirmed, “Anyway, I have a matching tramp stamp too. It’s all about sleep symbolism, I guess. I dunno, it’s more just I drew up a cool design, I think.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You designed your tattoos?” Michael asked, surprised.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yessir,” Rimmy answered as he dealt the cards, “I have six total. I drew them all myself.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Where are the others?</em> Michael wanted to know. He checked his cards. He had a six and a two. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hit me,” he grunted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy dealt him a ten.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Stay.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They flipped their cards. Rimmy had two kings. He grinned at Michael.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’s your most embarrassing fetish?” He asked, bouncing with gleeful excitement.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m not telling you that,” Michael grumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s1">No way in hell am I giving him more fucking ammunition.</span> </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, you agreed!” Rimmy huffed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael sighed heavily.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Rabbit themed costumes,” he admitted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What, like you’re a furry?” Rimmy grunted as he gathered the cards up.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, not full costumes,” Michael denied, face warm, “Like just ears and a tail...usually with lingerie or whatever.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s not embarrassing!” Rimmy huffed, “That’s weak.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s1">The embarrassing part is it’s your damn fault, asshole. And I only ever think of you in them.</span></em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You wanna know mine?” Rimmy offered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Fuck yes. Hell no. God help me.</em> Michael scowled at him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I get the feeling you’ll tell me regardless,” he grumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m into edging,” Rimmy confessed brightly as he dealt the cards, “Like orgasm denial, you know?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, I’m aware of what edging is,” Michael snorted, “That’s also not very embarrassing. That’s actually pretty fucking common.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“The embarrassing part is realizing afterward that I looked like a desperate idiot,” Rimmy laughed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael struggled to focus on the cards as images of Rimmy trembling under him flashed in his mind. Begging and crying. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Please, let me come!</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well?” Rimmy interrupted Michael’s thoughts.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hit me,” Michael blurted without thinking.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy dealt him another card. <em>Shit.</em> He flipped over his card to reveal he’d busted. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How do I look tonight?” Rimmy asked, grinning.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael was surprised by the question.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Uh, you look alright,” he muttered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, you’re supposed to answer truthfully,” Rimmy pouted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fucking narcissist,” Michael sneered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yep!” Rimmy agreed cheerfully, “Tell me how pretty I am!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I think this style doesn’t suit you,” Michael admitted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy frowned at him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You mean the makeup?” He grunted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Partly,” Michael mumbled, looking away, “Actually I think you looked better how you were when we first met.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Why the fucking shitballs did I just say that??</em> He cleared his throat. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You shouldn’t have an earring in the Golden League,” he murmured, trying to pretend <em>that’s</em> what this was about, “Not a hanging one. Wear a stud when you fight. And you shouldn’t have long hair. It’ll put you at a disadvantage if you give them something to grab onto.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“But I like giving people something to grab onto,” Rimmy laughed, “Long hair is a good handle on all fours.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Stop talking about sex before I bend you over and slam you like my dad slammed the door when he left for smokes twenty years ago.</em> Michael was saved by Gavin arriving with King. <em>Thank Christ.</em> They slid into the booth on the other side. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Time’s almost up,” King reminded them, “So how’s training going?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Good, I guess,” Michael grumbled, “Greenblood is a quick learner. He’ll be fine. Probably. If not, that’s one less pain in my fucking ass.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Awe, come on, immovable,” Rimmy teased, “Just admit you’ve totally come around and you like me now.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I might still throttle him,” Michael muttered dryly. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mogar, you’ve seen Vagabond without the mask, correct?” King prompted suddenly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Er, yeah?” Michael offered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I thought he didn’t take it off when he fought?” Gavin spoke up, frowning.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He doesn’t,” Michael answered cryptically.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Would you be able to identify him if you saw him?” King pressed before anyone could ask for Michael to elaborate.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, I guess so,” Michael grunted, shrugging, “But why the hell would you ask me that?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll tell you when the time comes,” King assured him, “Anyway, the preliminary fights and registration take place in two week’s time. Here’s your invitation.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He produced a golden envelope from his suit jacket and handed it to Michael. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It has all the information you need on it,” he explained, “This is a weekend ordeal, so please pack your bags to stay Friday evening through to Monday morning. I will be providing all your travel expenses, so no need to worry about that.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I hope you know, I’m gonna bleed money out of you,” Rimmy snorted. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">King gave him an exasperated look.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Where will you be, boi?” Michael asked Gavin, “Are you going for this?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yep, I’ll be with King,” he explained, “We’ll arrive at the same time, but the fighters are separated from the owners usually, so at the event we won’t see you much.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wow, I hate that being what you call yourself,” Rimmy announced, “I hope we won’t have problems with you not actually owning me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We won’t,” King assured him, “I have no intention to try to influence you or anything either. As long as you do your job and keep up the charade, there’s nothing else I really care about.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Great, then I guess we’ll see you there,” Rimmy muttered, “Unless there was something else?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, that was all,” King answered, “You two are free to leave.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael and Rimmy slid out of the booth and headed for the exit. When Michael got to his car, Rimmy stopped beside him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You don’t think I’m ready, do you?” He asked quietly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“There’s no death in the prelims,” Michael muttered, “And it should be easy enough for you to qualify to get into the League.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That didn’t answer my question,” Rimmy pointed out.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael sighed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, I don’t think you’re ready,” he admitted, “But I’m not sure anyone is ever <em>really</em> ready for the fucking Golden League.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Have a little faith, immovable,” Rimmy joked, “I’m pretty good, you know.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael threw him a glare. <em>Arrogant little shit.</em> He turned to push his key into the car door lock.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, can I get a ride?” Rimmy asked.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael pinched the bridge of his nose. <em>Jesus fucking Christ. </em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sure,” he grumbled. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy quickly went to the passenger seat before Michael could change his mind. Michael repeated a mantra of “don’t go up” over and over again as he drove to Rimmy’s apartment. He parked outside the apartment building and waited for Rimmy to get out. Rimmy did not get out. Instead, after he took his seat belt off, he turned the keys, killing the engine. Then he turned to Michael, grabbed his jacket, and hauled him in for a hard, rough kiss. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael responded immediately, of course, by pressing back and they mouthed sloppily at each other’s lips. Michael found himself squeezing at Rimmy’s pecs, running his hands down his torso, and groping at his love handles. He pushed his hands up Rimmy’s shirt, paused to unbuckle his seat belt, then leaned further over the center console to grope and kiss Rimmy, pressing hard against him. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy pushed him back and hopped over the console to straddle him. Michael fumbled for the seat release, leaning the seat back to give them more room before shoving his hands back up Rimmy’s shirt. He couldn’t remember the last time he made out with someone in his car like a horny teenager. Actually probably when he was a horny teenager. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy pulled back and grabbed the keys from the ignition. Then he opened the door and hopped out, grabbing Michael’s arm to drag him out after him. Michael was reeling trying to keep up. <em>Okay, we’re going up, I guess. </em>Rimmy didn’t slow down until they were in the bedroom where he immediately started shedding his clothing. Michael’s brain finally caught up, but the useless piece of shit just ordered his body to drop trou instead of go home and not make this mistake. <em>Again.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Once they were both bare, Rimmy gripped his arm and dropped onto his bed, bringing Michael down with him. They were kissing again and Michael’s hands ran all over Rimmy’s stupidly cut body. He squeezed at one of Rimmy’s thick thighs and Rimmy hissed sharply, pulling his mouth off Michael’s. Michael paused to look down and saw Rimmy’s thigh looked like someone had taken a baseball bat to it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“When did someone try to home run your leg?” He grunted a bit breathlessly as he leaned over to get Rimmy’s lube.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Uhh, two-no, three days ago?” Rimmy answered uncertainly, “I dunno. Days blur together. Hurry up, would you?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So demanding,” Michael grumbled as he smeared lube over Rimmy’s asshole, “I thought you liked edging.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He pushed a finger inside Rimmy and quickly followed it with a second.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“In c-certain circumstances,” Rimmy huffed as Michael fucked his fingers into him, “C-Certain <em>partners.”</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He was gripping the sheets, face screwed up. Not necessarily in an unusual amount of pain, but definitely uncomfortable. Probably from how the bruises on his leg were pressed against his hip, since his legs were pushed up so Michael could reach his asshole. Michael pulled back and turned him over, then went back to fingering him open. He seemed to be more comfortable in this position, relaxing somewhat on his hands and knees. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael discovered the location of the other three tattoos. There was the tramp stamp previously mentioned, one on his right ass cheek, and one in the middle of his back. The one on his ass was a handprint that said “spank me” in the palm, because of course. Michael could’ve rolled his eyes right out of his head. The mid-back one was an Xbox controller that said “Let’s play” in the wire.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Again it was the barbed wire tattoo that was more detailed and elaborate. The wire started near his sides, again looking like they were coming from within his flesh. The two wires met and twisted into a heart shape in the middle of his lower back. The morning glories that dotted the thigh tattoos dotted this one as well. The key difference was there were words accompanying this tattoo. “Si dormiam capiar” was written in curly font inside the heart. Michael had no idea what that meant, but could only assume it was something stupid and/or slutty.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“R-Ready,” Rimmy grunted, shaking Michael from his autopilot.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Condom?” Michael recalled this time.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Get in my ass,” Rimmy growled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael rolled his eyes as he swiped lube over his dick. He gripped Rimmy’s hip as he guided it in him and Rimmy gripped the headboard in one hand. Michael pressed forward slowly, reveling in Rimmy’s impatient hips twitching backward against his hold on him and his whine of frustration at the slow pace. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Something you want, bunny?” Michael taunted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy threw a glare over his shoulder at him. Michael grinned. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What was that you said?” He mused, “Admit you love it and maybe I’ll give it to you?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“S-Suck my fucking dick, immovable,” Rimmy snarled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael slowed to a stop and Rimmy’s head dropped with an impatient whine. He tried to force his hips back, but Michael held him firmly in place. He seemed to vibrate a moment, huffing out annoyed breaths. He wanted it <em>bad,</em> but hated the idea of telling Michael that. Michael started to pull back, knowing full well Rimmy would break before he pulled all the way out. Rimmy let out a frustrated noise.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Alright, alright!” He snapped.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He huffed out a few more annoyed breaths as Michael paused.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I...love your cock...” he grit out through his teeth, “Give it to me...<em>please.”</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Reluctant submission. Fuck.</em> Michael yanked him back as he thrust forward, slamming them together. Rimmy choked on a gasp and his lower back dipped. A shudder rippled through him and he gripped the sheets in both fists. Then the loudest, most beautiful moan Michael had ever heard launched out of his mouth. Like the shudder had gathered up every ounce of lust in him and shoved it out through his voice box. It was low in tone, vibrating deep in his chest and drawn out, exhaling out of him in a long breath.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Fuck, he sounds so good.</em> Michael leaned over him and gripped his hair to yank his head aside and bite into his shoulder. Rimmy’s nice cushy ass pushed against him and he whined in pain then moaned again.Michael thought he could lose his mind. Rimmy’s tight ass squeezing his cock, his beautiful moans like silk in his ears, his begrudging obedience. He let go of Rimmy’s shoulder to bite his neck, consciously and purposely putting the mark where he could see it later.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“M-Mogar, I...” Rimmy sniffled, “I-I’m ready.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He sounded so broken and it sent electricity through Michael’s bones. He shuddered against him and released his neck to pull back up. He kept his grip on Rimmy’s hair as he rolled his hips slowly. Rimmy groaned, his thighs tensing as Michael gathered up speed. His back was curved downward, leaving the angle wrong for Michael to try to hit his prostate. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He reached his hand around Rimmy and gripped his cock which made him arch his back upwards. He let out a pained snarl as that made his head pull against Michael’s grip on his hair. The pain was instantly forgotten though when Michael’s dick found his sweet spot. He clenched down on Michael and let out a shriek. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“R-Right there!” He cried, “F-Fuck me there! Yes! <em>Fuck!”</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He pushed up onto his fingertips, pressing back and arching into Michael. He was babbling out “yes” and “fuck” as his body tensed. Michael groaned as Rimmy tightened further on his cock and came, pulsing around him. Michael came as Rimmy slumped forward. He released his hair quickly so he didn’t rip it out as he dropped to his forearms, face burying into his bed. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael swayed a bit, steadying himself on Rimmy’s hip as they panted, trying to catch their breath. <em>Fucking Christ. </em>Michael ran soothing hands over Rimmy’s hips. <em>I did it again. Goddamnit. </em>He couldn’t even muster up the strength to be mad at himself, settling on vaguely annoyed. He reached over to grab tissues and wiped Rimmy’s bed and ass mostly free of jizz and lube. Rimmy settled on his side, carefully keeping his bruised thigh from pressing against anything. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Who did that?” Michael questioned as he tossed the tissues.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“An asshole with a baseball bat,” Rimmy grumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not a fighter?” Michael pressed as he moved to grab his boxers and get them on.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nope,” Rimmy answered, “Get me a water bottle from the fridge.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Bossy,” Michael snorted as he left the room.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy was mostly asleep when he got back and squeaked adorably when Michael tapped him in shoulder with the bottle. Michael laughed as Rimmy sat up to drink the water. He looked like he was actually blushing. Michael didn’t think he’d seen it before. It was cute. The bastard was fucking cute. Michael needed to leave.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You have lipstick smeared on your face,” Rimmy pointed out.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Whose fault is that, I wonder?” Michael sneered, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He glanced at where Rimmy was doing the same. He looked extremely wrecked. Exhausted, sweaty, makeup smudged, hair wild, Michael’s marks on his shoulder and neck. <em>What the hell am I doing?? </em>Rimmy caught him staring and raised an eyebrow at him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What?” He grunted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>You’re so fucking pretty I can’t take my eyes off you. </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Your makeup isn’t running,” Michael pointed out.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, good makeup stays in place,” Rimmy snorted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He put the half empty bottle on the nightstand and flopped back down. He was out almost before his head hit the pillow. Michael watched his face relax and his breathing slow. He looked down where the large purple bruise marred Rimmy’s pretty thigh. He looked back up at his face. <em>What do you get yourself into, unstoppable? </em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael’s eye caught the sparkling earring and he carefully removed it, placing it on the nightstand. He pulled the sheet over Rimmy’s still form and kissed his cheek before getting back up to get dressed. He was exhausted, but there was no way in hell he was staying. No, the <em>Something</em> in his chest was taking root and he needed to get the hell out of there before Rimmy became impossible to dislodge from himself.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When Michael was safely in his car, he looked up “si dormiam capiar” on google which informed him it was the motto of a ship. It also wasn’t slutty or stupid. More poetic if anything. Michael looked up at Rimmy’s dark window. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>If I sleep I may be caught.</em> </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael’s ears twitched as he heard the tiny sound of fabric shifting. <em>Someone’s here. Great.</em> Michael wanted to punch the fucker who hired him. <em>No one will actually try to steal it, he said. You’ll be fine, he said. Fuck you, Ty!</em> Michael sighed heavily. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He had training with Rimmy tomorrow, the only reason he agreed was because Ty had been adamant he wouldn’t actually have to fight. And of course because he needed the money after bumping a light post with his car. And by “bumping” he meant full on fucking <em>ramming</em> straight into it. He was lucky the light post survived.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He hurried to intercept the thief, who he was pretty sure had already snatched the thing. They were making for a too high window that was open. Michael dropped into a sprint to catch them before they made it. He went to tackle them around the middle, but they’d heard him coming and planted their feet. The body in Michael’s arms was familiar.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Rimmy?!” He demanded, pulling back.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Uh, hey, immovable,” Rimmy greeted, “Fancy meeting you here. But I really don’t have time for chit chat. Gotta run.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He started for the window, but Michael gripped his arm.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You can go once you give me that,” Michael offered, pointing at the box in Rimmy’s hand.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“This is sorta the whole reason I’m here,” Rimmy pointed out.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What a coincidence,” Michael snorted, “It’s why I’m here too.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy scowled at him, pulling at his hold weakly, as though to test how serious he was about not letting him leave. Michael held firm.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why are you thieving anyway?” He grunted, “You fight every night and you steal. Why?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“None of your fucking business,” Rimmy growled, “Let go of me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sure, as soon as you give that back,” Michael agreed, “This thieving shit is what got your thigh grand slammed, isn’t it? Seriously, you have money, you don’t need to fucking steal too.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What are you, my mom?” Rimmy sneered, yanking harder at Michael’s hold.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, I’m your fucking coach,” Michael snapped, “And your partner for the League. If you slip up because you’re tired, I don’t get my fucking cut.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy twisted, trying to send his foot into Michael, but Michael caught it easily, pinning it to his side. Rimmy hopped off his other foot, wrapping his legs around Michael’s waist. He started to bend like he’d done before, but Michael pitched forward, slamming him into the wall. He grunted, his legs dropping immediately and his face twisting up.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fuck!” He snarled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re injured,” Michael guessed as he pinned Rimmy’s arms to the wall, “What the hell are you doing coming to a <em>guarded</em> item while injured??”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I-It’s just bruises!” Rimmy huffed defensively, “And I didn’t know someone capable was on duty!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re a fucking idiot!” Michael snapped, “Stop fighting so fucking much!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fuck you!” Rimmy growled, pushing against him, “You can’t tell me what to do!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael slammed him back against the wall, hard and tears of pain sprang to Rimmy’s eyes.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re going to get yourself killed!” Michael shouted, “Why won’t you just stay home?!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Because I don’t want to be alone!” Rimmy blurted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael flinched backwards, the words hitting him like a slap. His hold on Rimmy loosened. Rimmy shoved him the rest of the way away and leapt on a nearby crate.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wait!” Michael exclaimed as Rimmy jumped for the window, “You can’t just-!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy was already out the window. Michael, not confident in his ability to make the jump, ran to the door and rushed around to try and stop him. Rimmy was already gone before he got there. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fuck!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He slammed his fist into the metal wall of the warehouse, sending pain shocking up his arm with a clang. <em>You can’t just drop a bomb on me like that and leave, you little fucking twerp! </em>Michael sighed tiredly and made his way back inside. This was when he recalled Rimmy had taken the thing he’d been guarding. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Well. Fuck.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">~</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Who the hell was it??” Ty demanded.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Dunno,” Michael grunted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You know them!” Ty insisted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He pointed out the security footage of Michael and Rimmy’s non-fight. Michael shrugged. Ty nodded at one of his friends behind Michael and they shifted, moving forward. Michael ducked their grab and twisted, sending his boot into their guts in a sidekick. They gripped his ankle as they bowed over his foot and he slammed his fist into their face. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They staggered sideways and let go to grab at their broken face. Their friend moved forward to assist, but before Michael could put them on their ass, a shotgun cocked behind him. He put his hands up.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“On your knees,” Ty ordered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael was too far out of range to sweep his legs or go for the gun before it filled him with lead. Michael slowly lowered to his knees. His hands were cuffed behind his back.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Tell me who stole from me,” Ty snarled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I can’t help you,” Michael muttered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael got a boot in his guts.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Tell me who stole from me!” Ty shouted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Starting to think you deserved it,” Michael wheezed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He was socked in the mouth and nearly fell over from the force.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Tell me who stole from me!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s classified,” Michael grunted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He was slammed in the back of the head and the next hour was a blur to him. The next thing he could clearly remember was waking up at the docks. He grunted as he got his cuffed hands in front of him, his right arm screaming in pain from the motion. He was aching pretty badly, but it looked like they hadn’t managed to break any bones, except maybe his nose. Probably because too many of them were reenforced with metal. He was a metal detector’s worst nightmare. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But his arm was dislocated, so there was that. He managed to get his phone from his boot anyway, eternally grateful he’d started carrying it there since his pockets had been emptied. He fumbled with it a bit before getting Gavin called.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Boi, what’s up?” Gavin greeted, “You never call!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“H-Hey, I’m...down at the docks,” Michael huffed, “I...I’m all fucked up. And I think my car got stolen. I need a ride.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh my god!” Gavin exclaimed, “Okay, I’ll be down there quick as I can!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There was a thump sound and an “oof” from Gavin and Michael rolled his eyes as he told Gavin where to find him and hung up. <em>This is my fucking lifeline. My “phone a friend” is this idiot. Jesus Christ.</em> Michael thought of Rimmy. Of course. Did he have a lifeline? Or would he be stuck trying to find his way home on his own? Michael <em>could</em> do that, but he preferred not to. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He was sitting up by the time a limo rolled up and Gavin hurried out of it. <em>The fuck? </em>Gavin picked the lock on the cuffs, then helped him to his feet and they hobbled to the limo. As Michael should’ve sus</span>
  <span class="s1">pected, it was King inside. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Your arm?” King prompted, “Broken?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Dislocated,” Michael grunted, moving to get his hoodie off, “No worries, I’m great at locating things.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Gavin helped him get his hoodie off. Then Michael grit his teeth and used the car door to help get his arm back in place. Once it was probably where it belonged, Gavin immediately set upon him with a first aid kit while the limo pulled away from the docks. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m alright,” Michael hissed as Gavin cleaned the cuts on his face.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Alright?!” Gavin huffed, “Michael Jones, you insufferable bastard! You are beaten to hell, you called <em>me</em> for help, and you say you’re alright!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He slugged Michael’s arm and Michael scowled at him. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ow!” He grumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Just hold still, you stupid idiot!” Gavin snapped, going back to cleaning him up, “You bloody scared me! What happened?!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael hummed in annoyance, trying to come up with a believable not-lie that didn’t give anything away.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I failed to stop something from being stolen,” he muttered, “And I let the thief get away.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You let them get away??” Gavin demanded, “What-<em>Why??”</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Because I don’t want to be alone!</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Because I don’t...h-he’s...my friend,” Michael mumbled, “I wouldn’t give him up so they tried to convince me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Gavin paused as he stuck a bandaid on Michael.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“X-Ray isn’t a thief,” he grunted, confused.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I-I have other friends!” Michael huffed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Gavin gave him a very dry, <em>very</em> disbelieving look.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Alright, he’s not my friend,” Michael admitted, “But I’ve worked with him, okay?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Gavin frowned as he went back to cleaning and sticking bandaids on his wounds.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It was Rimmy, wasn’t it?” He guessed quietly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael sighed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mogar, is this the man who assaulted you?” King spoke up.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He turned his phone toward Michael who squinted at the picture.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fuck, he’s got my glasses,” he grumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Gavin took the phone to hold it closer to him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, that’s him,” Michael confirmed, “Ty, uh, Redford? Something like that.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Gavin handed the phone back to King.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t worry, he’ll be dealt with,” King assured him, “I will see if we can retrieve your glasses.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why would you bother?” Michael wondered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I want you to be on my side,” King admitted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’s your game, Kingpin?” Michael questioned, squinting at him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">King looked up from his phone, mustache twitching, blue eyes sparkling.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“World domination, of course,” he mused.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael wasn’t sure why he actually believed such a ridiculous claim.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">~</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael was pretty sure Rimmy wasn’t actually going to show up to train. He’d almost considered trying to send a message through Gavin to cancel the training himself. Or cancel his life. Or just cancel everything. He didn’t want to face Rimmy after what he’d said. He ended up glad he’d run off. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">What the hell was he supposed to say to that? How was he meant to act knowing there was secret pain under Rimmy’s arrogant attitude? Knowing that such a cocky, beautiful guy was lonely? Knowing that he probably hurt Rimmy by leaving early those nights he spent with him?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael held no illusion that he’d significantly hurt him, but considering he himself had struggled with loneliness those nights, he knew it most have effected Rimmy more than he realized. Which was to say: at all. Michael hadn’t even stopped to consider Rimmy might give a shit if he wasn’t there when he woke up. He was just so superhuman, the absolute bastard, Michael forgot he was still a person and sometimes people need other people, even if it’s just a little. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Oh and there was the other thing he wasn’t thrilled about showing Rimmy.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What the fuck?” Rimmy grunted when he showed up, “You look beat to hell. What the fuck happened to you?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Bar fight,” Michael lied, “Let’s move this along. I’m exhausted.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy didn’t comment and they avoided eye contact as he moved to the locker room. No way in hell, no way on god’s green earth, no way known to man, was he <em>ever</em> going to tell Rimmy he’d caught a beat down for him. First of all, Rimmy might get ideas. He might think Michael gave a shit. Secondly, whether he did or didn’t get ideas, Rimmy would never let him hear the end of it. He could just hear the smug <em>“you li~ke me!”</em> Lastly, he was all about ignoring this shit. If it didn’t happen, then it couldn’t effect anything. It couldn’t <em>mean</em> anything. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He really wondered who the fuck he thought he was convincing with that line of reasoning.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Wham! Have some sad! Since there wasn’t enough in Because of Course.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy met Michael at the prelim arena with a new hairstyle and no earring. His hair was shorter on the sides and the longer top part was purple, closer to how he’d been when they first met. Michael liked it. He thought it looked perfect on him, really suited him. So did the aviators and the tight t-shirt. It was nothing short of a damn miracle that straining t-shirt hadn’t ripped yet. Not that Michael was noticing that (and he was definitely not <em>hoping</em>).</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, immovable,” he greeted, grinning, “Did ya miss me?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, but my aim is getting better,” Michael snorted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy pouted as they moved toward the entrance. They were <em>not</em> talking about the thing that didn’t happen. Their last two training sessions had been pretty much the same. Now here they were, about to check into the fucking Golden League, pretending to be a normal fighter and coach pair, pretending nothing major ever happened between them. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Because it didn’t,</em> Michael reminded himself as he pulled out their invitation. The door person looked it over and handed it back. Then they gave them wristbands. A red one for Rimmy and a blue for Michael, designating which was the fighter and which was the coach. They stepped inside and were greeted by a new person with blonde hair that exuded a caffeine-tinted aura.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hi, hi!” They greeted cheerfully, “Rimmy and Mogar, team Ramsey, right?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes,” Michael confirmed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“This way!” They chirped, leading them through a short hallway, “We don’t usually get a lot of coaches with brand new teams.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know,” Michael muttered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The godawfully cheerful person led them to the warm up gym area and pointed out the locker rooms. They gave the basic rules, no fighting/harassing outside the ring, etc etc., told them when the first matches were announced, and passed Rimmy a locker key. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Before we walk across this room,” Michael murmured, “I should tell you, keep up your usual arrogant attitude. If someone steps in front of us, walk around them like they don’t matter. Do not engage, do not fight, but if forced into it, do not back down. Got it?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Juvie rules, got it,” Rimmy agreed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They started across the room and Michael caught glimpses of the competition out of the corner of his eye. Plenty of big opponents. Should be no problem. There was a few more slender opponents, more acrobatic types. Still, Michael didn’t worry about it. Rimmy was tough and acrobatic. He’d be fine.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, the junior league’s next door, Purple!” Someone snickered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael wasn’t sure why <em>he</em> almost stopped to punch the fuck out of them (or rather he just ignored the reason why), but Rimmy made no reaction. <em>Shit, he actually did go to juvie. I thought he was joking. </em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Pretty sure there’s a height requirement, junior,” someone else sneered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Wow, get new material.</em> There were a few more shitty short/young jokes thrown at them before they made it to the locker room and went to locker 13. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, shit,” Michael grunted as Rimmy opened his locker, “13 is a terrible number.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He leaned against locker 12.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Maybe if you believe in luck,” Rimmy snorted, “But I got skill, immovable.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, yeah,” Michael grumbled, “The great Rimmy Tim.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Excuse you,” Rimmy huffed, “That’s the <em>fantastic</em> Rimmy Tim, buddy.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He grinned, giving a flourishing bow and an exaggerated wink.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re a dork,” Michael laughed, shaking his head.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So now what’s the plan?” Rimmy prompted, “What do we do?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Warm up,” Michael answered, “Try to scope out the competition a bit, without looking too worried about it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Alright, I can do that,” Rimmy agreed, “How do you know so much about this league anyway?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael’s head lulled over to look at him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How do you think, unstoppable?” He muttered. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So you’ve played before?” Rimmy guessed, closing his locker, “And won apparently, since you’re still alive.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nope, I lost,” Michael dismissed, “They just thought I was dead. Scared the fuck out of the cleanup crew when I suddenly woke up and demanded to know where the fuck I was.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Then they tried to finish me off.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That is so you,” Rimmy laughed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>The hell does that mean?</em> Rimmy started for the door before Michael could bother trying to ask for clarification. As they found an unoccupied space to start stretching and warming up, Rimmy’s stomach suddenly growled loudly. Michael gave him a dry look and he smiled sheepishly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I woke up late,” he admitted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Alright, let’s hit the cafeteria,” Michael muttered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You got it!” Rimmy chirped, firing finger guns at Michael.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m gonna quit or throttle you, I can’t decide,” Michael grumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy pouted and Michael rolled his eyes, then led him off to the cafeteria. It had been upgraded since he was last there. Nothing crazy, just more tables and vending machines. A few of the coaches and fighters were inside. He did his best to check them from the corner of his eye as he moved to the vending machines.<br/>
</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael could feel eyes on him as Rimmy selected what he wanted. He got a turkey sandwich and a soda and Michael got a soda just so it didn’t feel weird to sit with him while he ate. They sat and the room was fairly quiet except for whispering between the others.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, lift your hand up,” Rimmy murmured, “Show off your wristband.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What, why?” Michael grunted. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Though he <em>did</em> brush his hand through his hair to show off the blue wristband.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Someone’s staring at you like you’re meat,” Rimmy muttered, “I just want to be clear who the meat is.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael rolled his eyes.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t worry, prelims are just squaring up,” he snorted, “These are pin takedowns mostly and tapping out is allowed.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, they look like they’re gonna fucking eat you,” Rimmy grumbled, “Actually, they’re leaving now, but still, better safe than sorry. Wouldn’t want you to become a target.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Why??</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Is this where all the league fights take place?” Rimmy questioned.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, just prelims,” Michael answered, “There’s five other rings. They get fancier the higher up the ladder you go.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So there’s five rounds then?” Rimmy guessed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes,” Michael confirmed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How far did you make it?” Rimmy pressed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Five.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy’s eyebrows went up.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You got second place then,” he pointed out, “That’s pretty damn good.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“There’s no second place in the Golden League,” Michael muttered, looking away, “Only first and failure.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s pretty harsh, dude,” Rimmy grunted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So’s life,” Michael snorted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Solid point,” Rimmy relented.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They fell silent as Rimmy finished eating. They went back in to warm up until it was time for the first fight. The fights were announced, put up on the screens in the gym. Rimmy was fifteenth on the list, pitted against someone called Seven, which was a bit confusing. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Early fight, that’s good,” Michael muttered as they headed for the arena with the other fighters, “You can leave once you’ve won.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Aww, you that confident in me now, immovable?” Rimmy cooed as they sat on the bleachers around the ring.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, I just know you have to win if you want that paycheck,” Michael snorted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t care about the paycheck,” Rimmy grumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael turned to look at him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What the hell are you here for then??” He wondered wildly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy glanced at him and away again.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“For the glory, obviously!” he chirped cheerfully.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael rolled his eyes. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re not exactly here for the paycheck either,” Rimmy murmured, “Are you?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael sighed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, no I’m not,” he admitted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It all comes back down to Gold for you, doesn’t it?” Rimmy mused.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, I certainly care fuck all about myself,” Michael snorted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They fell silent again until the fourteenth match.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay, Rimmy Tim, Seven, you’re in the hole!” The cheerful person from earlier called out to them.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They left the bleachers to stand down by the ring, near the small wall that separated the ring/fighting area from the rest of the room. From there they could see some of the balconies where the owners were and Michael noticed King and Gavin. Gavin waved cheerfully at him and Michael waved back, rolling his eyes. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“By the way, win as quickly as you can,” Michael instructed Rimmy, “Make sure you keep yourself in the running. There’s, of course, more than 64 and less than 128 fighters. Since only 32 can move on, there’s going to be eliminations at the end of the fights. Eliminations are based on fighting time. The slowest fighters get booted.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Can do!” Rimmy chirped, firing finger guns at him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael looked over at him. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re nervous,” he realized.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Who, me?” Rimmy scoffed, “Have you met me? I’m like the opposite of nervous.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Usually, yes,” Michael agreed, “But right now you’re nervous. Why?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy hesitated, a flash of that uncertainty Michael had seen before dancing across his face. The uncertainty he’d seen when he’d surprised Rimmy.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re worried you’ll be surprised by your opponents,” Michael guessed, “That you’re not prepared for what they might throw at you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy puffed out a sigh, looking away.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You keep surprising me,” he admitted quietly, “With things I don’t know how to combat. What if I face another you in this stupid place? I mean, you fit here, people like you will do well here. Meaning any number of people I fight could be just like you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And who trained you?” Michael snorted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy looked over at him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You trained me and you still surprise me,” he pointed out, “If I still can’t predict <em>your</em> moves, how the hell am I going to fight a bunch of yous that are even less predictable?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re getting it backwards,” Michael grunted, “I’m the harder one to predict. They’ll be easier for you to fight. Don’t forget, I beat a bunch of assholes just like this already.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, but <em>I</em> haven’t,” Rimmy countered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Look, dude, this is like training weights,” Michael explained, “When you take training weights off, you’re suddenly better because you already had to work harder to deal with them <em>on.</em> Fighting and training with me is like using training weights, fighting these guys is like taking them off. Do you understand?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Uh, yeah, I think so,” Rimmy muttered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He seemed a bit confused, but the uncertainty was gone.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Good, now stop moping, you have a match to win,” Michael ordered, ruffling his purple hair.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy batted his hand away, scowling at him. Michael laughed lightly. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>What is a-happening today, folks? 👀 Feelings?? 👀 Care?? 👀</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy was a crowd-pleaser. He was working the room when he fought the person called Seven. He seemed to understand that getting the rich fucks to like him was a good thing. He used more fanciful moves and would occasionally use taunts like he did when he fought Michael. It was smart. Though Michael wondered if he knew how smart <em>exactly.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He hadn’t even mentioned the betting system, but Rimmy seemed to be playing into the Golden League’s whole deal: favor. Well, it was the brutality foremost, but even that played into favor a bit. Like the Roman colosseum. The rich fucks were there to have a good time and they controlled everything, especially the betting. Plus, once their own fighters were out, they liked to shower their favorites in gifts. So it was in a fighter’s best interests to keep them happy. And well, Rimmy was great at it. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He did a fucking <em>backflip</em> after he was declared winner and blew kisses to the rich fuckers on the balconies. <em>Asshole.</em> He was grinning as he trotted over to Michael who gave him a sweat towel and a water bottle.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You were right!” He chirped as they headed for the locker room, “They were way easier to fight than you!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, that was bullshit,” Michael admitted, “But it was the best pep talk I could think of off the top of my head.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy stared at him in surprise then burst out laughing.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh my god, you’re the worst coach!” He laughed, clutching his stomach as they entered the locker room.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, I’ve never been a fucking coach before,” Michael snorted, “It’s harder than it seems.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, it is,” Rimmy joked with an exaggerated wink.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael rolled his eyes and leaned against locker 12 while Rimmy opened locker 13.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What the fuck??” Rimmy exclaimed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">All the laughter and joy on his face had vanished and he stared in his locker with wide eyes. Michael turned to look into it as well and his eyebrows went up. A knife had been stabbed through a note and into his bag. The note said “leave or die” in all caps written with a thick black marker. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Uh, I mean, I guess I didn’t expect death threats,” Rimmy muttered, “We kill each other in this thing, why would they need to threaten me?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“An excellent fucking question,” Michael growled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He was livid. For some reason.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t touch anything,” he ordered, “And stay there.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He stormed out of the room to drag security, officials, King, and anyone else he could find into the locker room. Security checked the footage of outside the locker room and found the camera had been turned away.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And what absolute fuckwit is on the cameras and didn’t fucking notice?!” Michael snapped. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It seems they shifted it when the guard changed,” the head security officer answered, “And it wasn’t changed enough for the new guard to notice.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“There’s not much we can do,” one of the officials spoke up, “Without knowing who the culprit is.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, can’t do much, I see,” Michael grumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The officials and security cleared out leaving the four members of Team Ramsey alone.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>
    <span class="s1">Clang!</span>
  </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael’s knuckles split as he left a crater in the lockers with his fist.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Can’t do much,” Michael sneered, “Fine. Then I’ll start dragging in every one of those fuckers and beat my way through them until I find the little fucking weasel!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He started to storm from the room, but Gavin popped up in front of him, hands up.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Listen, boi, you need to relax,” he soothed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“But there’s-someone’s-I can’t-!” Michael sputtered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Gavin put his hands on Michael’s face.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Rimmy’s not in danger,” he spoke so quietly only Michael could hear him, “Between the two of you, no one could stand a chance. An immovable object and unstoppable force working together could never get beaten. Do you understand?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I-I understand,” Michael mumbled, the burning in his chest easing somewhat.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Rimmy, could I speak with you privately a moment?” King requested.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Uh, sure, I guess?” Rimmy agreed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Gavin looped an arm through Michael’s to lead him from the locker room. He started bandaging Michael’s knuckles.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Michael, I’m worried about you,” he murmured.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>“I</em> didn’t get threatened,” Michael pointed out.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not that, dummy!” Gavin huffed, “You and Rimmy!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What the fuck are you talking about?” Michael grumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t play dumb, it unbecoming!” Gavin snapped.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He finished putting on the bandage and squeezed Michael’s hand.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You care for him,” he murmured, “You worry about him. You got beat up for him. Just admit you like him.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why?” Michael muttered, “What good would that do?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You could be happy with him!” Gavin pointed out. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Have you met Rimmy?” Michael snorted, “The kid’s a fucking asshole.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And you’re not?” Gavin countered, crossing his arms.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Two assholes is worse than one,” Michael argued.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I dunno, that’s an extra hole,” Gavin snickered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael whacked his arm.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re bad for my health,” he grumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Gavin grinned proudly at him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s not something to be smug about, dumbass,” Michael sneered, “Anyway, how goes the real mission?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m definitely getting in his trousers tonight,” Gavin announced cheerfully, “He thinks I booked a room on my own, but I’m just gonna sleep in his room.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wait, you haven’t fucked King yet?” Michael scoffed, “Also, not what I was talking about.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nope,” Gavin answered, “I think he’s like one of those old guys that thinks you should court someone or something. He sent me flowers.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What kind?” Michael asked before he could stop himself.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Gavin opened his phone and showed him a picture.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay, wow,” Michael grunted, “Good news, the guy is fucking crazy about you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Really??” Gavin demanded, “How can you tell??”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He looked so damn excited and hopeful it was sickeningly sweet and adorable. Michael wanted to barf.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Those are camellias,” Michael answered, pointing at the outer ones, “White is adoration, pink is longing, and red is desire. The ones in the center are tulips. They’re variegated, multicolored, it means he thinks your eyes are beautiful.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How do you know all this??” Gavin wondered wildly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I...looked up a specific type of flower,” Michael admitted, “I wanted to know if there were any deeper meanings. Sorta ended up in a rabbit hole.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Again.</em> Gavin squinted at him a moment before his face lit up like a Christmas tree.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh my god, it was morning glories, wasn’t it??” He giggled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I keep forgetting you fucked him,” Michael grumbled, “Shut up. It doesn’t mean anything. I was just curious! Stop giggling!” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh my gosh, you have such a massive crush!” Gavin laughed behind his hands.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I-I do not!” Michael huffed, face on fire.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What a dork!” Gavin cackled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sh-Shut up!” Michael hissed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Jeez, what’d we miss?” Rimmy snorted as he and King joined them.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Absolutely nothing,” Michael growled, “It’s time to leave now. I’ll drive you to the hotel.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What, why?” Rimmy grunted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“In case the asshole threatening you shows up,” Michael grumbled, “Do you have your stuff?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Uh, yeah,” Rimmy muttered, tugging the strap on his bag, “Does this make you my bodyguard?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It makes me the bodyguard of my paycheck,” Michael answered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Uh-huh,” Gavin sneered, “I’m sure.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael flipped him off as he and Rimmy went for the exit. <em>I do not have a crush. I am a grown ass man. I don’t get crushes, that’s ridiculous!</em> He glanced at Rimmy whose cheeks were still a bit flushed, making him look a bit like he was blushing. <em>Fuck, he’s pretty.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>
    <span class="s1">Whack!</span>
  </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael grunted as he ran into the wall next to the doorway. His face went scarlet as he rubbed at it where he’d slammed it right into the wall. <em>Fuck.</em> Rimmy laughed at him as they went through the doorway. <em>Fuck, that’s embarrassing! </em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Focus, Mogar,” he teased, “Isn’t that what you’re always telling me? Focus and control?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Does he realize I was distracted by him?</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fuck off,” Michael grumbled. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This is getting out of hand really quickly. Luckily they made it to his car and then to the hotel safely. Michael instructed he not open his door for anyone, but him, King, or Gavin and to leave the “do not disturb” sign on the handle as they got on the elevator. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You could sleep in my room,” Rimmy suggested.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>That’s the worst fucking idea I’ve ever heard.</em> Rimmy suddenly produced a card in his hand like a magic trick, holding it up between his middle and index fingers. He offered it to Michael. Not a card. A room key.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I have a surprise for you,” he murmured, “Come by in an hour and I promise you won’t be disappointed.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael tried not to look like a desperate idiot as he took the key. Rimmy didn’t let go of it at first, turning to smirk at Michael. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Eager, aren’t you?” He teased.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Yes!</em> Michael’s heart and dick screamed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Curious,” his mouth lied.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy grinned widely.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll take curious,” he mused, “See you in an hour, immovable.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He let go of the key and turned to exit as the doors dinged. Michael wished he had some snappy comeback, but he was too busy watching Rimmy’s ass leave the elevator. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>God, I’m so fucking screwed.</em>
  </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Can anyone smell the bad decisions?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>I’m an idiot. I’m an idiot. I’m a total fucking idiot.</em> Michael paced around, flipping the room key between his fingers. <em>I shouldn’t have taken this fucking thing.</em> Now not going would be the biggest dick move. He paused, rubbing at his forehead. <em>That’s why I took it, isn’t it? To force myself to go.</em> He started pacing again. <em>I have to get out of this! </em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Unfortunately, he’d showered and changed, so he’d pretty much already committed. He shook his head. <em>No. You can still get the fuck out of this, Jones!</em> He puffed out a few calming breaths. <em>Just show up. Knock. Return the key. Leave.</em> He readjusted his jeans. <em>What the fuck is the surprise??</em> He stopped, covering his face and groaning. He wanted to know so bad. He wanted to know and he wanted to fuck Rimmy’s brains out. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There were a million things Rimmy could surprise him with that wouldn’t disappoint him. Each new idea that popped in Michael’s head was worse than the last. He sat down, flipping the card around as he stared down at it. <em>I’m such a fucking idiot. </em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He checked the time. <em>Ten minutes.</em> He left his room and moved to the elevator. He brushed his hand down his shirt to smooth out wrinkles. He ran his fingers through his curls. Rimmy was so out of his league, but here he was, being invited to his room for a “surprise”. He knew he should feel damn grateful Rimmy bothered to give him a second glance. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But he just felt fucking annoyed that Rimmy had him on a fucking leash and that he damn well knew it. Not only did he know, he was fucking <em>amused</em> by it. Damn cocky little bunny was shaking his little tail, laughing when Michael snapped his jaws at him, desperate to get him, but not quite able to reach. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael hesitated outside Rimmy’s door, considering sliding the key under and just running for it. But what if Rimmy was in bed, naked, those thick thighs spread across the country, just <em>waiting</em> for Michael? Then it would just be rude to run... Michael slipped the key in the lock and twisted the handle as the door unlocked. He swallowed nervously as he pushed the door open. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Stay calm.</em> He stepped in the room and let the door close behind him. He walked forward, toward the folding doors that separated the bed area from the living area. They were closed, of course, to give Michael plenty of time to regret his entire life. <em>Stay calm, Jones. You’re a grown man.</em> He took the little knobs on the doors and slid them open. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He closed them back immediately. <em>Oh god.</em> He puffed out a few rapid breaths. <em>That was definitely...wasn’t it?</em> He slowly pulled the doors back open. Rimmy grinned at him from where his head was propped up on his crossed arms. He was laying parallel to the headboard, flat on his stomach so he could show off his outfit, if you could call it that. He was wearing an oversized hoodie, pink in color. The hood had two floppy rabbit ears on top and down where the hoodie covered his ass was fluffy little tail. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Oh god, I’m so fucked.</em> Rimmy lifted up on his knees, turning toward Michael. He gripped the bed between his knees, turning his head down and away like he was shy. The hoodie sleeves fell over his hands and well down his thick thighs.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What do you think?” He cooed, fluttering his eyelashes at Michael.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael thought he was going to die. He resisted the urge to close the doors again and cautiously stepped forward. Rimmy shattered the shy act by grinning widely at him, smug. But that was fine, Michael didn’t care about the act. What he cared about was the fact Rimmy had listened to something he’d said and gone out of his way to fill a never-vocalized request. This surprise was something Rimmy did just for Michael. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael cupped Rimmy’s face in one hand as he stopped in front of him. Rimmy looked up at him, leaning into his palm. He had a soft, happy smile on his face, looking like he was just genuinely glad Michael was there. Michael felt guilty for even considering leaving Rimmy here alone. Rimmy lifted up and Michael leaned down, meeting him halfway. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy put his arms around Michael’s neck as he pressed his lips to his. Michael put his arms around Rimmy’s waist, pulling him close. For a moment they just seemed to melt together, holding each other and kissing deeply. Michael was losing his mind over this warm feeling caused by Rimmy pressed against him. But he couldn’t help ramping it up by trailing his hand down to Rimmy’s ass, squeezing tightly. Rimmy jolted and pulled back slightly to tug at Michael’s belt while his mouth pressed and mouthed more eagerly against his. He eventually pulled off Michael’s mouth with a grunt of frustration to focus on getting his belt and jeans undone.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Eager little bunny, aren’t you?” Michael teased.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Shut it,” Rimmy grumbled, yanking his too long sleeves up.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He got Michael’s jeans open and his cock out while Michael brushed his hood back a bit to see his face better. Rimmy lowered back down and opened his mouth as he leaned forward. Michael’s mouth was like a desert as Rimmy’s closed around his cock. He gripped at Rimmy’s shoulders as a shudder rippled through him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“F-Fuck,” he groaned as Rimmy pushed forward, “Ah, th-there’s a use for your sassy little mouth after all. F-Fuck.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy snorted in laughter, looking up enough to roll his eyes at Michael. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t back-talk me,” Michael grumbled, putting his hand on the back of Rimmy’s head, “Get moving.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy pulled off and licked a wide stripe up the side of his cock, his eyes dark as he looked up at Michael.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why don’t you make me, immovable?” He taunted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael pushed his hood off to grip a fistful of his hair and yank him forward. He opened his mouth and sank down easily until he choked. Michael groaned as Rimmy let him pull him forward, despite how bad he was choking and struggling. His hands pawed at Michael’s jeans, trying to hang on, but struggling with the way the hoodie sleeves had dropped back down over them, covering them again. It made him look fucking desperate and Michael was pretty sure if he’d had any rationality, Rimmy had just tossed it right out the fucking window.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael’s hand tightened in Rimmy’s hair. When Rimmy reached the end, running out of dick to swallow, Michael paused. Rimmy choked and struggled a moment and Michael was breathing heavy, trying to focus on not brutally fucking Rimmy’s face. Then Rimmy relaxed slightly and moaned. Michael shuddered as the vibrations of the moan resonated around his cock. <em>Oh god. </em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He tugged Rimmy’s hair, pulling him back and Rimmy let him move his head without complaint. In fact he moaned more as Michael dragged him forward and back again, seeming to indicate this was exactly what he wanted. Michael moved him back and forth as he sucked his cheeks in and moved his tongue under Michael’s cock. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ah, f-fuck, <em>fuck,”</em> Michael huffed, his hips starting to move to meet Rimmy’s face halfway, “G-God your mouth is, ah, f-fuckin’ good.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>So fucking wet and warm. Jesus, when is the last time I got a fucking blowjob??</em> Rimmy suddenly tapped at his thigh, pushing lightly and Michael let go to let him pull off.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Y-You okay?” He grunted breathlessly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy pawed at his shirt. Michael pulled his shirt over his head. Rimmy shifted sideways and tried to tug at Michael’s jeans to guide him to the bed. Michael sat, trying to ignore his shaky hands and how goddamn desperate he was for this. Rimmy straddled his lap and pressed back in for a kiss. He pushed Michael back a bit with one hand while he shook his sleeve back up to free his other and get it behind him to grip Michael’s cock. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael shuddered as Rimmy guided his cock to his asshole. It was loose, a bit wet. Rimmy had prepared while he’d waited for Michael. Michael’s hands ran up his thighs, squeezing lightly and he groaned as Rimmy pressed down on his cock. There was a bit of resistance, probably because there was not quite enough actual lube, but Rimmy moaned beautifully anyway, clearly enjoying himself.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael leaned back further to watch him. His face was drawn up, his reddened lips parted and his pretty eyelashes wet with tears. The hoodie was pushed up, bunched up above his hard cock and his covered hands were braced on Michael’s chest. Michael reached up and tugged the hood back over his head, the floppy ears laying over either side. Michael braced his hands on the bed behind him, gripping the sheets tightly and groaning softly. <em>Fuck, he’s so damn adorable in this stupid fucking thing. </em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy let out a tiny breathless “ah” as he pressed snugly into Michael’s lap. He swayed a bit and his eyes opened halfway slowly. He looked wrecked and damn beautiful. Michael’s breath caught in his throat and his heart pounded in his chest. <em>Fuck. He’s so fucking pretty it’s actually unfair.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He lifted back up a bit as Rimmy leaned down and their lips met again. Michael’s hand ran up Rimmy’s thigh to his hip as their lips mouthed against each other. Rimmy’s hands moved up to hold onto Michael’s shoulders. He started moving, lifting up and lowering slowly and Michael groaned against his mouth, hips rolling up impatiently. Their mouths broke off and their noses bumped together.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Who’s eager?” Rimmy taunted. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Bunnies don’t talk,” Michael growled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You should know by now you have to <em>make</em> me shut up, immovable,” Rimmy sneered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael sat up further, wrapping his arm around the small of Rimmy’s back to hold him as he fucked up into him. Rimmy moaned, his head falling back as he moved with him and their hips slammed together. Michael nipped at his throat between watching his beautiful face twist up in pleasure, leaving light little marks all over his skin. Rimmy’s hands pawed at Michael’s hair, trying to grip at his curls. He started babbling out “fuck” and “yes” and possibly “Mogar”, but it was hard to tell.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He tightened up, jerking as he came against Michael’s belly. Michael frantically tried to follow as Rimmy slumped against him, slamming hard into him as he did so. He panted heavily, nuzzling into Rimmy’s neck and pressing light kisses against his skin as he caught his breath. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He carefully twisted to lay Rimmy down and retrieved tissues from the nightstand to wipe him up somewhat. He frowned at the bit of white on the pink hoodie and moved to the bathroom to get a wet rag to wipe it up better. He started to wipe up Rimmy’s ass better too while he was at it, but the wet washcloth startled Rimmy.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Cold!” He whined.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t be a baby,” Michael snorted, “You’ll be glad tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hmph.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael finished cleaning them both up and dropped the cloth on the nightstand. Rimmy was asleep again already, curled up slightly. Michael sat beside him, reaching over to brush the floppy rabbit ear from his face, shaking his head. <em>God, he’s adorable. </em>Michael carefully moved the covers over his bare legs. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The <em>Something</em> in Michael was screaming and clawing, trying to get out, trying to give itself over to Rimmy. If he stayed, he’d never be rid of Rimmy. If he left, he’d be the biggest douchebag on the planet. He leaned over and kissed Rimmy’s cheek before standing and retrieving his shirt. He moved to the folding doors and paused. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>What the fuck am I doing? </em> </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Shout out to YD who pretty much called the surprise. You’ve been reading too long, you know all my moves now. 😂</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What the fuck are you doing?” Rimmy’s voice woke Michael up.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael blinked blearily, shifting to sit up. Rimmy was frowning at him, still wearing the hoodie.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I </span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>was</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1"> sleeping,” Michael grumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why are you on the couch?” Rimmy wondered, “The bed is huge, you could’ve slept there.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>
    <span class="s2">Compromise.</span>
  </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Didn’t want to,” Michael half-lied.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He wanted to cuddle Rimmy, but he didn’t. And right then, he wanted to reach out and pull Rimmy onto his lap. Bury his face in the oversized hoodie and breathe in Rimmy’s scent. One of the reasons he didn’t want to spend the night: he was very cuddly in the mornings. No doubt he’d never hear the end of it if he let Rimmy see that side of him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, I’m going down for breakfast,” Rimmy grunted, “You coming?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sure,” Michael mumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He got his shoes on and shuffled out after Rimmy, yawning as they got in the elevator. </span>
  <span class="s2"><em>He looks so fucking cuddly and adorable in that damn thing. Like a big stuffed animal. I wanna squeeze him while I fall asleep. </em>He ignored his mind reminding him he <em>could</em> have last night. </span>
  <span class="s1">The elevator dinging is what finally woke Michael up enough to realize Rimmy was walking around in a sex outfit. Michael slammed his fist over the close door button.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’re you doing?” Rimmy wondered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You can’t walk around in that!” Michael snapped.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy looked down.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I have pants on?” He pointed out, sounding confused.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“But that’s-!” Michael huffed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He blushed, nearly biting through his tongue to stop from saying the “only for me” that was waiting there. Rimmy looked back up, raising an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“N-Never mind,” Michael mumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">
    <em>God, I’m such a fucking idiot!</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1"> Rimmy brightened up, grinning at him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh my god, are you jealous??” He giggled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael tapped at the open door button.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t be ridiculous,” he grumbled, “I just forgot I cleaned the jizz off.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Uh-huh,” Rimmy snorted, “Worried about cleanliness. <em>Sureeee.”</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Shut up,” Michael grunted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They exited the elevator finally and Michael considered just running out the front door and not stopping until he keeled over dead. Instead he went to the dining room with Rimmy, obviously having just had sex with him the night before. And because his life could only get worse, King and Gavin were there. Of course. And of course, Gavin noticed them immediately, brightening up and waving cheerfully.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Kill me,” Michael muttered, “Just kill me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t be dramatic,” Rimmy laughed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They got some food and sat with the others, because if they didn’t, Gavin would just bounce over and sit with them anyway.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh my gosh, your hoodie’s so cute!” Gavin exclaimed, “And very on brand!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“OMG Energizer bunny!” Rimmy chirped.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So I take it you had a good night?” Gavin laughed, “You’re all glowy this morning.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>
    <span class="s2">“Great</span>
  </em>
  <span class="s1"> night,” Rimmy corrected.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael tried to pop the swell of smugness in his chest at that comment.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not as good as immovable though,” Rimmy sneered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael threw him a glare that he just grinned at. </span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>Arrogant little twerp.</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I take it you had a good night too?” Rimmy prompted Gavin.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Could’ve been better,” Gavin grumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael glanced at King who appeared oblivious as he stared at his phone. So Gavin’s side quest to bang him hadn’t been completed then.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Rimmy, why don’t you come with me to the bathroom?” Gavin suddenly suggested, standing up.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Uhh, okay, I guess?” Rimmy agreed, getting up.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Gavin looked at Michael and nodded his head toward King. Then he made a little pushing motion with his hand. Michael sighed, but nodded his head. Gavin smiled and started leading Rimmy away. Michael hated when Gavin asked for this favor, because he was not good at subtly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So, King, how was your night?” He prompted, stabbing at his eggs with his fork.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">King looked up at him in surprise.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why would you want to know that?” He wondered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t,” Michael admitted, “I’m just curious if you like my boi enough to see him again.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“See him...” King murmured, looking confused.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Then his face cleared and he cleared his throat.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I see,” he muttered, “You think I had sex with Gavin.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">
    <em>No, I obviously do not think that, you old fucking prude.</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Didn’t he sleep in your room?” Michael asked.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, yes, but we slept separately,” King answered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why?” Michael grunted, “You’re obviously into him.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Obviously,” King snorted, looking away, “Is there anyone who isn’t?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Me?” Michael offered, “So why won’t you fuck him then?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">King avoided eye contact, tapping his fingers against the table lightly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He...only sleeps with people once,” he spoke quietly, “Having sex with him once will only make me long for him even more. And then he won’t bother being around for anything but work.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You fucking stupid?” Michael grunted, “He wants to fuck you so bad because he </span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>likes</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1"> you. Normally when someone rejects him, he backs off and doesn’t bother trying again. But with you, he’s persisting. It means Gavin’s crazy about you, dumbass. If you don’t hurry up and get your head out of your ass, he’s going to give up because he’ll start thinking you don’t actually like him.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">King looked at him in surprise then his mustache twitched.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Pretty sound advice from someone struggling with their own romance,” he teased.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m not struggling,” Michael snorted, “I’m willfully drowning myself in my own stupidity. Big fucking difference, your highness.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">King laughed, shaking his head.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, as long as you’re self-aware,” he joked.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Trust me, I know better than anyone what a fucking idiot I am,” Michael grumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So do something about it,” King suggested as Gavin and Rimmy reentered the room, “I’m going to, so you should too.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“But then I’ll have learned something,” Michael snorted, “Possibly had emotional growth. Not for me, thanks.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Gavin and Rimmy had their arms linked together as they came toward them, laughing about something. Michael wondered if they did it on purpose to make the two of them jealous. Because it was working on <em>his</em> side of the table. Michael had never wanted to rip two people apart more in his whole life. </span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>Damnit. Fucking damnit. I’m so fucking stupid.</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1"> Gavin and Rimmy let go of each other and sat. King put his arm around Gavin who jumped a bit in surprise, but immediately scooted closer to press into his side.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael didn’t look at Rimmy as he ate and wondered. If Michael put his arm around him, would he snuggle into his side like he belonged there? Michael finished eating quickly, ignoring the conversation and hurriedly leaving the dining room.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He gripped the railing in the elevator as it started moving and pressed his palm into his forehead. His heart was pounding in his chest and his stomach must’ve smelled like flowers because it was full of butterflies. The <em>Something</em> in his chest clawed at him, protesting leaving Rimmy. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>
    <span class="s1">Thunk!</span>
  </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael’s fist slammed into the elevator wall, leaving a dent on the metal. <em>I can’t do this. I can’t fucking do this!</em> The elevator dinged and he practically ran to get into his room. His hands shook as he unlocked his door to quickly get inside. He pressed his back to the door and slid down to the floor, breathing heavily as he slumped. He braced his forearms on his knees and his head dropped.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He felt so raw and vulnerable. He was sliced open with his rib cage pulled out, his insides fully in the air to be seen or touched by anyone. Totally unprotected. His heart was laying right there for Rimmy, practically already marked with the cocky bastard’s initials. All Rimmy needed to do was reach in and grasp it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Maybe he already had. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>At least he knows he’s an idiot.</p><p>So Kyhariel drew Jeremy in his bunny hoodie and I’m deaded! It’s amazing! Check it out:</p><p>https://twitter.com/kyhariel/status/1333159924428386305?s=20</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael shook his head as Rimmy took a hook to his ribs. <em>Come on, you little shit, you know better than that.</em> He was still winning, but he needed to watch getting hit at all. He grabbed his opponent’s arm and yanked them the half a foot of distance between them, slamming his forehead into their nose. It cracked and they reeled back, but Rimmy didn’t let them get away. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t go running now, sweetheart!” He laughed, “I’m not done dancing yet!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He pulled them back in, looping an arm around them. A murmur of laughter sounded up across the balconies. Rimmy twisted his opponent who was struggling to get away from him and started to dip them like he really was dancing. Instead of just a dip though, he lifted them and slammed them down into the ground. He started to drop over them, but he was interrupted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s1">Tap tap tap tap tap tap!</span> </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After being thrown around for six minutes, covered in bruises with a possibly fractured hand and a definitely broken nose, his opponent was <em>done.</em> They were rapidly slapping the ground, scrambling away from him. Rimmy was definitely a force to be reckoned with. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s1">Ding, ding!</span> </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy gave a theatrical bow as he was declared winner and again blew kisses to the balconies. Michael sighed, but had to admit it was good. They liked him. That was good for bets. Rimmy trotted over to Michael, grinning. Michael rolled his eyes as he handed over the towel and the water bottle.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“They may have cracked my rib,” Rimmy muttered under his breath, still grinning.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He high-fived the fighter passing them and Michael wondered wildly when he’d met them. They went to the locker room and made sure no one was around before Rimmy lifted his shirt for Michael to check his injury. Michael pressed his fingers over his rib. Rimmy hissed, slamming his fist into the wall. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re fine,” Michael assured him, “But I’m guessing it’s a bone bruise. Try not to get hit here again. I’ll get you some ice while you change.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You got it,” Rimmy wheezed, firing finger guns at him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael rolled his eyes again and moved back into the training area to get an ice pack. He almost ran face first into a big, burly guy with a scowl. Bastion was what they called him and he was just below Rimmy on the current standing. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Excuse me,” Michael grunted, moving to go around him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The guy blocked him. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What?” Michael prompted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The guy held up a folded note. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“For Rimmy Tim,” he mumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Alright,” Michael muttered, taking the note.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thank you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sure.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bastion walked on and Michael moved over to first aid to get an ice pack. <em>That was fucking weird... Is this another threat? </em>He debated a moment before unfolded the note. If it was a threat, he’d toss it instead of giving it to Rimmy. He didn’t need more to worry about. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s1">Rimmy,</span> </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s1">I’m staying at the Rogue on fifth. Room 326. I would like it very much if you would visit me tonight.</span> </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s1">-Bastion</span> </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael almost ate the note. He wasn’t sure why <em>that</em> was his knee-jerk reaction, but he nearly stuffed it in his mouth to destroy it. He folded it back up and retrieved the ice pack. <em>This is not my fucking business.</em> He tried not to stomp his way into the locker room like a teenager having a tantrum. But he did anyway. Rimmy was shirtless when he entered. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There were bruises all over him and Michael thought he must be a pretty sick piece of shit because he thought they looked beautiful on Rimmy. He brought over the ice pack and handed Rimmy the note. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wazzat?” He grunted around a mouthful of water as he took it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“From an admirer,” Michael answered as he wrapped the pack around Rimmy.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Admirer?” Rimmy repeated as he unfolded the note.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael pulled the pack holder tightly around him and pressed the Velcro together. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fuck me, dude!” Rimmy hissed, “Warn me, asshole!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t be a baby,” Michael snorted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy blew a raspberry at him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re such a child,” Michael grumbled, “Let’s go already.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nyeh!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael rolled his eyes. Rimmy got his shirt on and grabbed his bag. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No threat this time?” Michael asked as they headed for the exit.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nope,” Rimmy answered, “You sleeping on my couch again tonight?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do you want me to?” Michael countered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He expected Rimmy to scoff or joke, but he didn’t.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes,” he answered, “Well, you’re welcome to lay on the bed with me, but if you prefer the couch, that’s fine.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s1">If I stay in his room, he can't go visit someone else.</span> </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Alright,” Michael muttered, “I’ll sleep there, if you feel unsafe.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Unsafe?” Rimmy grunted, sounding confused.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Your other admirer,” Michael pointed out, “We were <em>just</em> talking about the threat. Isn’t that why you want me to sleep in your room?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, right,” Rimmy recalled, “Yeah, sure.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s1">Come on, kid, at least try to pretend. </span> </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Totally scared of the mystery threat,” Rimmy agreed, firing finger guns, “That’s like <em>super</em> scary.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael gave him a dry look and Rimmy gave him a sheepish smile in return. <em>Goddamnit. I’m never gonna get rid of you, am I? </em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">~</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After a third round of preliminaries that was almost <em>too</em> easy, Rimmy was officially in the Golden League at 13th place. Michael tried hard not to worry about that number. Superstition wasn't helpful. Not just not helpful, often the superstition was actively hurtful. It often psyched out the person involved. When Michael competed, 13 actually forfeit the match, refusing to participate. <em>Technically</em> as long as you forfeit prior to the round, you were allowed to go free. 13 was found in their apartment with a bullet between their eyes. <em>Technically</em> how a disgruntled owner dealt with their fighter after the competition wasn't the League's problem. <em>Technically</em> they were allowed to go free. Michael chose not to tell Rimmy about the technicalities.  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Other than the fight, nothing else of note happened because they were back to ignoring everything. Until the morning after the last round, when Michael woke up on Rimmy's couch to the man crawling up between his legs. Rimmy almost got a knee to the chin for it. Rimmy settled over him, crossing his arms and laying them on Michael's chest. He propped his chin on his arms and smiled at Michael. <em>Fuck, he's adorable. How is this fair?</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"What the fuck," Michael grunted roughly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Last day," Rimmy commented lightly, "Then we'll be back to LS standard."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"What's your point?" Michael muttered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"My point is what happens in Venturas, stays in Venturas," Rimmy answered, raising an eyebrow at him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"What, you wanna elope?" Michael snorted.<br/></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Could be fun," Rimmy laughed, "But I was thinking more like-"</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s1">Knock, knock.</span> </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy frowned, pushing up from Michael's chest, making him wheeze as he pushed the air out of him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Asshole!" Michael huffed as Rimmy got up to answer the door.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Hello, Mr. Tim, correct?" Someone questioned.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Yep, that's me," Rimmy answered, "What's going on?"</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"We have some deliveries for you," the person explained, "Several people left things for you. We ran out of space to store them."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael sat up. <em>What the fuck? </em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Er, okay then," Rimmy muttered, "One sec."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He closed the door and turned to Michael.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"You should put your pants on," he suggested, "Or everyone will see your boner."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael did <em>not</em> blush as he grabbed his jeans off the floor to pull them on. It wasn't his fault Rimmy's very warm, very cuddly, very <em>sexy</em> body was just pressed up between his legs. Rimmy reopened the door as Michael zipped his fly and several hotel staff brought in an assortment of gifts, mainly gift baskets. Michael pulled on his shoes while he and Rimmy watched in bafflement as the staff covered the table in the gifts. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"What the fuck is this?" Rimmy wondered, after the staff left.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Uh, I think it's the owners," Michael answered as they approached the table, "They like to give gifts to their favorite fighters when their own drop out. Usually it's not this much this soon though. I don't think, anyway."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"So I'm attracting a lot of attention?" Rimmy guessed, plucking a card from the table, "That good or bad?"</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Good," Michael assured him, looking over the assortment, "For the League anyway. It means they like you and will place bets on you. A percentage of all bets placed on you goes straight in your pocket, bypassing your owner and/or coach."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Why would that-<em>Agh!</em>" Rimmy interrupted himself, "What the <em>fuck??"</em></span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Michael looked over in alarm to see blood splattered over Rimmy's face. </span> <span class="s1">His chest squeezed in anxiety and his hands started to reach for Rimmy, to find the injury, to <em>fix</em> it.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s ink!” Rimmy hastened to assure him, wiping at his eyes, “It’s just red ink.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He held up a card which had been rigged to spray ink when opened. Inside was “forfeit or die” in capital black letters. It looked especially ominous with the red splattered over it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Who the fuck?!" Michael demanded, taking the card.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There was no name or any indication of who sent it. Michael was going to find whoever did this and make them eat the fucking card and then his fist. </span>
</p><p class="p1">"I'm going to go track them down and beat them to death," he grumbled.</p><p class="p1">"Don't," Rimmy grunted, moving to the bathroom, "They're just trying to scare me off."</p><p class="p1">"I don't care <em>why</em> they're fucking doing it," Michael seethed, "I'm going to make sure they can't do it again."</p><p class="p1">"Relax, immovable," Rimmy called from the bathroom, "This is my fight. Therefore my decision to track them down or not. And I choose not."</p><p class="p1">Michael hummed in annoyance. Rimmy was right, but Michael was still pissed off. He tossed the card on the coffee table and looked over the gifts, trying to focus on something other than the burning in his chest. Unfortunately, he started noticing a trend among the gifts. There were normal gifts like cheese, candy, and toiletry gift baskets, but several of them seemed to be...<em>suggestive.</em> Wine. Gourmet chocolate. Strawberries, the sexiest fruit ever. There were a couple jewelry boxes too. Red ribbons. Roses and hearts on the cards. </p><p class="p1">Michael didn't think he could eat all of it before Rimmy was done in the bathroom. He briefly considered tossing it off the balcony instead to get rid of it, but Rimmy returned before he could.</p><p class="p1">"Do they normally try to fuck the fighters they like?" He questioned as he untied one of the red ribbons.</p><p class="p1">"Probably," Michael admitted, "I wouldn't know. No one gave me gifts. They liked me only for the brutality, so I wasn't exactly a candidate for fucking with them."</p><p class="p1">"I don't follow," Rimmy snorted, pulling a strawberry from a box, "Brutality is what makes you so damn hot."</p><p class="p1">Michael threw him an unamused look, but Rimmy bit into the strawberry, distracting him. He watched entirely too closely, struggling not to stare openly at Rimmy's lips on the strawberry. Rimmy fucking noticed though. Because of course he fucking noticed Michael being creepy. His lips quirked in a little smirk. Michael swallowed. <em>Fuck, that smirk is not good for my health.</em> Rimmy picked up another strawberry as he finished the first.</p><p class="p1">"Do you want to feed me?" He offered, holding it out, "You seemed to like feeding me the other night."</p><p class="p1"><em>Fuck.</em> Michael was sweating as he reached for the strawberry. Rimmy grinned at him.</p><p class="p1">"You're so fucking easy," he laughed.</p><p class="p1">Michael went crimson, hand snapping back.</p><p class="p1">"F-Fuck you!" He huffed, turning to storm away.</p><p class="p1">"W-Wait, wait!" Rimmy blurted, following him as he went for the door, "I-I didn't mean it like that!"</p><p class="p1">"Fuck off!" Michael growled.</p><p class="p1"><em>I fucking knew it!</em> He stormed to the elevator and slammed the button for his floor.<em> It must be fucking hilarious for you, playing with someone so fucking desperate for you. Watching me fall over myself.</em> His eyes squeezed tightly closed.<em> This is my own fault. I knew. I knew from the beginning where this would go.</em> He couldn't muster up the strength to even punch anything. <em>I knew as soon as you got my heart in your hand you would squeeze and fucking laugh while I squirmed. </em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Take that right to your feelios.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael paced around outside Dregs, waiting for Rimmy. He was half-glad he wasn’t showing up to train, half-worried. It’d been just over a week since the hotel room incident and Michael was still annoyed. He didn’t like being laughed at and played with. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This was why he didn’t want to start this shit in the first place. Liking someone was opening your chest cavity to them and that was just asking to get your heart ripped out. And cocky guys like Rimmy were all the same. They thought it was hilarious to let people like Michael fall over themselves to please them. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cute, was a word used to describe Michael’s devotion on several occasions. <em>Cute, sweet, silly.</em> Michael didn’t want to be these things. He didn’t want to be a joke. Because the only thing worse than someone not liking you back was someone laughing at you for liking them so damn much. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He checked his watch and scowled. Half an hour. <em>What the fuck??</em> He checked his phone. No messages from Gavin. He should’ve asked for Rimmy’s number so he could text the guy himself, but that was too uncomfortable for him. He fired off a message to Gavin, asking him to contact Rimmy and continued pacing. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His stomach clamped in anxiety as he recalled Rimmy’s “side-job” of thieving. He thought of the bruises on Rimmy’s skin. Mottled deep purple and sickly green flesh. Injuries. Weak spots like targets on Rimmy’s skin. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael nearly jumped out of his skin as his phone rang.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Gavin?” He answered it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Rimmy’s not answering,” Gavin replied, words coming out in a rush, “It keeps going to voicemail. Is he okay?? Is something wrong??”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael felt panic rising in his throat like stomach acid.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I-I’ll go check on him,” he muttered as he ran back to his car.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You know where he lives??” Gavin demanded.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael paused where his shaking hand was moving to unlock his car door.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What?” He grunted, confused, “Don’t you? You fucked him too.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, in a hotel room,” Gavin snorted, “He said he never takes anyone home because his apartment is always a mess.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael braced his hand on his car window, suddenly dizzy. His mind ran through the layout of Rimmy’s apartment, recalling the nearly empty living room, the clean kitchen that didn’t even have dirty dishes, and the tidy bedroom where the only out of place thing had been their clothes. No. It wasn’t messiness that stopped Rimmy from having people over. But then what was the reason and why was Michael different?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Boi?” Gavin called out through the phone, “You there?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Y-Yeah, yeah,” Michael muttered, shaking his head and unlocking his door, “I’m sure he’s fine, but I’ll go check.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay, let me know!” Gavin answered, “I’m starting to get worried.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They said goodbye and hung up as Michael pulled out of the parking lot and started for Rimmy’s apartment. He recalled the ominous threats from the secret admirer. They wouldn’t really try to kill him before any of the actual fights, would they? He was good and he’d attracted attention, but most fighters in the Golden League were pretty confident in their ability. And they’d have to have gone to the effort of tracking Rimmy down. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A fighter probably wouldn’t bother, but an owner? That was possible. Though they risked being disqualified, it had happened before. Or so Michael had heard. It didn’t occur when he competed. He pressed his gas pedal, hoping with everything he had that Rimmy would be okay.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy’s car was in the parking lot of the apartment complex and Michael puffed out a relieved sigh. So he probably wasn’t in a ditch somewhere. But still, why wasn’t he answering?? Michael jogged up the stairs to Rimmy’s apartment. He almost immediately busted down the door, but refrained, ringing the doorbell like a sane person. Then ringing it like an insane person when Rimmy didn’t answer. He pounded on the door when that didn’t work either. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He hesitated before trying the handle and his guts were cold as he pushed the unlocked door open. <em>Why was it unlocked? Why the hell was it unlocked?! </em>He was breathing too heavily as he entered the quiet apartment. He closed the door and locked it. His heart was pounding in his chest as he moved toward Rimmy’s bedroom. <em>Should’ve brought my gun.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy was in his bed, shirtless and covered in injuries. Mostly bruises, but he had a knife slash on his side that had bled heavily onto his bed. Michael’s whole being was frozen like ice. <em>Stuck.</em> It took him several seconds to start breathing again and grasp that Rimmy was also breathing. And other than possibly needing a few stitches on the knife wound, was mostly fine. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As pretty as he looked covered in bruises, Michael hated the blood. Bruises were nothing. Rimmy gave worse than he got when it came to bruises. The splits on his knuckles proved as much. But blood like with the knife wound, like the splatter of ink he’d gotten on his face, that was different. That was wrong. It needed to be corrected. <em>Fixed.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael swallowed his anxiety, his panic and moved to go get first aid. He had a kit in his car and took some ice from the freezer. He grabbed a wash rag from the bathroom as well before returning to Rimmy’s bed and sitting beside him. Rimmy jerked awake as soon as the bed dipped, immediately swinging a hook at Michael’s face. Michael caught it easily and Rimmy blinked blearily at him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“H-Hey, immovable, long time n-no see,” he rasped.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Quiet,” Michael ordered, pressing him back down, “Hold still.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“E-Easy for you to say,” Rimmy huffed, jolting as Michael pressed the ice pack to the knife wound, “What’re you doing here?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s Tuesday,” Michael pointed out as he cleaned up the splits on Rimmy’s knuckles.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Shit,” Rimmy hissed, “F-Forgot.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Obviously,” Michael snorted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He moved to the other hand. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Really, why are you here?” Rimmy asked quietly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael ignored the question as he moved to check the bruises on Rimmy’s chest for splits. Rimmy gripped his hand tightly. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re mad at me,” he grunted, “Why would you come here looking for me? Wh-Why would you patch me up?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Because that’s what I fucking do,” Michael muttered, yanking his hand away.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He refocused on Rimmy’s bruises, unable to continue staring into Rimmy’s beautiful eyes. If he did, he might forgive him. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You really aren’t in love with Gavin,” Rimmy realized, “He’s like a stray puppy you picked up. S-So am I, aren’t I? I’m a fucking stray you took pity on, a-aren’t I??”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t be stupid,” Michael snorted, “I have no pity for you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Only adoration and admiration. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Then why are you helping me?!” Rimmy demanded.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>You know why, you fucking cocky bastard!</em> Michael lifted the ice away to clean the knife wound. <em>You just want me to say it so you can laugh at me again.</em> He finished cleaning the wound and pressed the ice back. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do you want something for the pain before I stitch you up?” He muttered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“There’s whiskey in the freezer,” Rimmy murmured.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael stood to retrieve it, grateful to be able to run away a moment so he could tell the Something to back off. <em>We’re mad. We’re mad at him! Fuck off!</em> He watched the amber sloshing in the glass bottle as he pulled it from the freezer. Seeing Rimmy beaten and bloody was tearing Michael apart. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">First of all, it was reminding him of when Gavin was like that, when Michael hadn’t been there for him. Not that Michael needed or wanted to take a hit for Rimmy, like he did Gavin. It was more he wished Rimmy would’ve been able to call him to pick him up. He wanted to be his backup. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The other part of this was that he knew this wasn’t about the physical pain. It wasn’t the bruises and the blood that churned Michael’s stomach. It was that Rimmy was getting into these things because he was lonely. As anxious as the blood made Michael, he could fix that. He couldn’t fix lonely. Even if Rimmy <em>did</em> actually like him, Michael wasn’t good at that shit. Mostly because he was too terrified of being vulnerable himself. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>I shouldn’t have come. Now I feel guilty for ditching him when <b>he</b> laughed at me!</em> Michael sighed, rubbing his forehead. He moved back for the bedroom. Whatever, let’s just get this over with. Rimmy sat up on his elbows, wincing as Michael entered. He took a few heavy gulps from the bottle while Michael got out the suture kit. He laid back and Michael moved the ice. Rimmy hissed at the first poke, stiffening a bit.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“L-Listen, I...” he grunted, voice strained, “I...I wasn’t c-calling you a...a whore or-or whatever.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael sighed. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I thought we didn’t talk about this shit,” he grumbled, “I like ignoring.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It...It’s ‘cause I l-laughed at you, ugh, i-isn’t it?” Rimmy mumbled, “It’s j-just that, fuck, I-I like riling y-you up.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, really?” Michael muttered dryly, “I hadn’t noticed.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Dickbag!” Rimmy huffed, “I-I’m tryin’ to say s-sorry, okay? I’m not...”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His voice weakened.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I-I wasn’t tryin’ t-to make fun of you,” he murmured, “I...it’s j-just fuckin’...I l-like how you’re always, ugh, r-ready to fuck.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael glanced up at him to see his eyes were tightly closed and his face was red.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I-It’s just usually...” he grunted, “Th-The guys into me...they’re usually g-gross or assholes. Or-Or little k-kittens like Gavin.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael snorted, refraining from rolling his eyes while stitching. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“K-Kittens are f-fun, but...” Rimmy continued, “I...I like d-dogs better... Excitable. C-Can chew me up...I l-like when you g-go all feral.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael was blushing. <em>Fucking Christ, he’s drunk. </em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You drank too much,” he muttered as he finished up the stitches.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“F-Fuck you, <em>mom,”</em> Rimmy grumbled, “I-I just mean...I actually l-like fuckin’ you...Unlike other admirers. S-So I like you gettin’ hot f-for me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael rolled his eyes and bandaged the wound. Rimmy gripped weakly at his jacket.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, “I-I wasn’t makin’ fun of y-you.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael looked into his pretty, fiery eyes, full of desperation and guilt. <em>Damnit.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s okay,” Michael dismissed gruffly, “You should get some rest.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He shifted to get up.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wait, w-wait!” Rimmy huffed, “I need s-something else.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What now?” Michael grumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy pulled on his jacket, bringing him closer.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“K-Kiss’ll make me feel b-better,” he joked, grinning weakly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael rolled his eyes and started to pull away.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I-I mean it,” Rimmy muttered, tugging at Michael’s jacket.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His face was red again. Michael felt the Something pushing him towards Rimmy and he pressed his lips to his. Rimmy relaxed against his pillow and smiled as Michael pulled back. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thanks,” he murmured, “F-For everything.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re welcome,” Michael answered, “Now rest.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy didn’t even sass him again as his eyes closed and he settled down. Michael gently removed his hand from his jacket, but didn’t let go. He held Rimmy’s hand, brushing his thumb over the back of it, waiting for Rimmy to fall asleep. He was there an hour before he finally pried Rimmy’s hand from his and left. But not before writing his number down and putting it under Rimmy’s phone which he also plugged in. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>I’m fucked,</em> he thought as he left Rimmy’s apartment. <em>I’ve gone and fucked myself. I’m never going to let go now.</em> He got in his car and covered his face. <em>Fucking dumbass, stop smiling! You’re a fucking idiot!</em> He slammed his fist against his steering wheel. <em>He’s going to destroy you and you’re gonna fucking smile while he does it, you fucking moron.</em></span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yeah, that mostly fixed the problem, right? Everything's fine now, for sure.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael checked his watch. He got the distinct feeling he was being set up right then. Gavin had asked him to come to the pier, but suspiciously didn’t tell him why. Just told him to wear decent clothes “for once”. <em>Fucking asshole.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Immovable?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael was going to hurl himself off the pier. <em>I fucking knew it was a setup! Gavin you little twerp! I’m gonna kill you!</em> He turned around to look at Rimmy and his breath caught in his throat. He was wearing a silky orange button up shirt with shimmering purple morning glories blooming across the front. Over it was an open plum-colored blazer with sunflowers, leaves and all, across the shoulders. His hands were stuck in the pockets of matching plum slacks with some more sunflowers at the edge of one pant leg and the opposite hip. His purple hair was hanging a bit on his forehead and he was wearing a new earring, a stud of a strawberry. It looked jarringly out of place, but adorable on him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The neon lights from the pier danced across his beautiful face like a personal light show for Michael to enjoy. The lights almost seemed to focus on Rimmy like spotlights on a stage. Michael didn’t blame them for wanting to shine on such a beautiful person. <em>A light should be lucky to brush over Rimmy’s gorgeous body. </em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Oh no. I’ve gone poetic. I’m fucked. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Did Gavin tell you why we’re here?” Rimmy asked, shaking Michael from his daze.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael shook his head. Rimmy looked away from him, hesitating a moment.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thanks for the other night, by the way,” he muttered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His red face looked beautiful in the wash of rainbow lights. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No problem,” Michael murmured.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You, uh, clean up nice, immovable,” Rimmy quickly pushed on.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Not as nice as you,</em> Michael almost immediately replied.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thanks,” he grunted instead.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Did we get set up?” Rimmy wondered, “Like on a date?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m starting to think so,” Michael grumbled, checking his watch again.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Boi!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s a no,” Rimmy snorted as Gavin bounced over.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He was wearing a little black dress cinched at the waist with a loose skirt and sleeves and a low v-neck. His whole face was made up and he had both earrings in and matching, which was very rare for him. They were new though. Michael didn’t recognize the sparkling sapphire droplets nor the matching necklace hanging where his cleavage would be if he had tits. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His hair too had been styled to look more like a pixie cut than his usual wild mop. And some temporary color put in it. He had contacts in as well. He’d shaved too. Everywhere it seemed. Michael tried and failed not to look down at his golden thighs where the dress laid across them. Everywhere showing anyhow. <em>He went all out in this disguise. </em>Michael may not have recognized him if he didn’t know his boi like the back of his hand.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wow, Rimmy!” Gavin exclaimed, gripping Rimmy’s biceps, “You look incredible!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know, right?” Rimmy snorted, “So do you. Please tell me I get to be your date tonight. That dress is driving me wild right now.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re such a flatterer,” Gavin laughed, “But I have a boyfriend now.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, I don’t mind being a cuck for one night,” King chimed in as he joined them.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He was in a pretty standard business casual outfit, black blazer, slacks, and button up. He looked more like Michael than the other two though everything was of higher quality and the shirt was satin with faint outlines of roses all over it. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“After seeing Rimmy fight,” he added, “I’d like to see what he looks like when he’s banging someone’s brains out another way.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy and Gavin laughed and Michael snorted, shaking his head.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m surrounded by fucking morons,” he muttered, “Why are we here?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Date night,” Gavin answered, “First of all, take these.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He held out earpieces to Michael and Rimmy. They took them and put them in.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Turn it on with the little button,” he instructed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They did so.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay, now you should be able to hear us when we’re apart,” he explained, “If you’re within-Whatever, you get it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He waved his hand dismissively.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So we’re here mostly for recon,” King spoke up, “We’re scoping out one of the other owners whose fighter made it into the League. The idea is these two are bait.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He gestured to Gavin and Rimmy.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“When the owner recognizes Rimmy, he’ll want to check him out,” he explained, “He’ll come up and start talking to you, maybe not bringing up the League. Just play along and keep him distracted. As for me and Mogar, we’ll be snooping. Any objections?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, but are you armed?” Michael asked Rimmy.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy nodded. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Alright, you protect my boi,” Michael ordered, ruffling his purple hair.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy scowled at him, batting his hand away.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I took forever to style my hair!” He huffed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yet it took so little to fuck up,” Michael snorted, “Try harder.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy stuck his tongue out at him and offered Gavin his arm. Gavin took it and they started away.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I could definitely seriously be a cuck for that,” King muttered as they watched them walk away.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Tell me about it,” Michael grunted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Gavin looked over his shoulder, grinning. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“They, uh, heard that, huh?” King chuckled nervously.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Gavin and Rimmy laughed. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s good to know I’m not the only one who’s totally screwed,” Michael muttered dryly, “Let’s get this over with already.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">King led him away from the pier to the parking lot, but hesitated near the gate.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He’s got a driver,” he muttered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What?!” Gavin hissed in their ears, “He didn’t before!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So one of us distracts the driver,” Michael grunted, “That’ll be you. I don’t do charisma.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Can’t,” King grunted, “I have to look for what I’m after.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Seriously??” Michael grumbled, “You brought me on a job you don’t trust me for?! Are you a fucking idiot??”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s not trust,” King assured him, “It’s carefully laid plans that could fall apart at the slightest wrong move.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hello there,” an unfamiliar voice greeted close enough to Gavin and Rimmy to pick up on their ear pieces, “Aren’t you Rimmy Tim?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know you?” Rimmy questioned.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael turned off his earpiece to talk to King who turned his off too.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Listen dude, I’m serious, I don’t do charisma!” Michael hissed, “I’ll really ruin everything if I try!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So don’t charm him,” King suggested, “Pick a fight instead.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Won’t your guy get suspicious if he finds his driver beaten to hell?” Michael argued.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not if <em>he</em> wins the fight,” King answered, raising an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You want me to pick a fight and lose?” Michael grumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Shouldn’t be that hard,” King confirmed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’d be surprised,” Michael snorted, “Fine, which car?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">King pointed it out and Michael noted the driver was leaning against it. He nodded and they parted to cross the parking lot. Michael turned his earpiece back on as he walked toward the driver.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“-ing to suspect you wish I was <em>your</em> fighter,” Rimmy was joking. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re certainly good,” the owner snorted, “But you’ll end up losing against my man, I’m sure.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was easy enough to pick a fight with the driver, all Michael had to do was make some passing insulting comment.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Only three fights and you’re so sure?” Rimmy scoffed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, my man won once already,” the owner explained, “And he’s only gotten better with time.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael felt anxiety twisting inside him. <em>A champion? Fuck.</em> The driver swung at Michael’s face, distracting his anxiety a bit. <em>Right. “Fighting”.</em> He jabbed at the man’s chest.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, but have you seen me?” Rimmy laughed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Like I said, you’re good,” the owner agreed, “I’d probably be a patron for you if I didn’t have my own fighter. Though I heard several of your patrons are rather...<em>inappropriate</em> with their intentions.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael slammed a hard hook to the driver’s face, forgetting for a moment he was supposed to be going easy on him and remembering only how many <em>inappropriate</em> gifts Rimmy had gotten.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s an understatement,” Rimmy voiced Michael’s thoughts.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That is unfortunate,” the owner murmured, “Truly the League has gone downhill to allow such things. They should be stricter with them.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, well, what do you expect?” Rimmy snorted, “I mean, look at me. I’m a magnet for creeps.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Yeah, he is.</em> Michael felt he knew especially well since he was one of said creeps. Michael let a jab to his nose go through, reeling back.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“But for pretty young ladies too, apparently,” the owner mused.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The driver pressed Michael, hitting Michael hard in the guts. Gavin giggled in Michael’s ear as he wheezed extra loud for effect. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Isn’t she the prettiest gem?” Rimmy cooed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, you!” Gavin giggled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There was a loud smacking noise that was clearly Rimmy pressing an exaggerated kiss to Gavin’s cheek. The driver hit Michael in the guts again and Michael felt he’d drawn the short straw in the job assignments. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We’re good,” King muttered, “You need assistance, Mogar?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“G-Got it, got it!” Michael grunted, “I’m sorry, okay?? I-I’m gonna fuckin’ throw up.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The driver backed off and Michael could hear the sounds of the other two saying goodbye to the owner.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Drunk or not, control yourself,” he sneered, “This ain’t Alderney, kid, we don’t like loudmouths.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, got it,” Michael muttered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He rolled his eyes as the guy turned his back to him. <em>Never put your back to an opponent.</em> He almost instinctively punched the guy in the back of the head, but just staggered off back toward the pier. As soon as he was out of sight, he stood straight and brushed off his shirt. He met King back where they’d first met up to wait for the others. King handed him a handkerchief for his bleeding nose. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“N-Next time I’m playing the dumb, pretty arm candy,” he huffed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You just wish you were my date,” Rimmy teased as he and Gavin joined them.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael flipped him off.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Did we get everything at least?” He grumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I got mine,” Gavin answered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I got mine,” King confirmed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Great,” Michael grunted, “I’m gonna go find something to eat that isn’t blood. You want this back?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He held the bloody handkerchief up to King who put up a hand.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, thank you,” he muttered, nose wrinkling.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Alright, I’m out,” Michael mumbled, “This night fucking sucked.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re such a baby,” Gavin snorted, “We’ll see you later, boi.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, yeah,” Michael muttered, waving dismissively as he started away.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, can I get a ride?” Rimmy asked, following after him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, sure,” Michael agreed, as he tossed the handkerchief. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ooh, there you go, cotton candy,” Rimmy pointed out, “That’ll take care of that blood taste.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael rolled his eyes, but walked to the booth and bought cotton candy. He found a bench nearby to sit on and Rimmy plopped down beside him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Can I have some?” He requested, smiling sheepishly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You only suggested it so you could,” Michael scoffed, “But yes, here.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He pulled off a piece and handed the rest to Rimmy. He ate the piece, feeling significantly better and watched the Ferris wheel turning while Rimmy ate the rest. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do you want to go up?” Rimmy asked.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Huh?” Michael grunted distractedly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He was too busy watching the Ferris wheel and rubbing his bruised stomach.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“The Ferris wheel,” Rimmy clarified, pointing, “Do you want to go up?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Kinda,” Michael admitted, shrugging, “But they’re depressing to go on alone.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Lucky you, I’m here,” Rimmy pointed out.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael looked over at him as he finished the cotton candy. His eyes were sparkling, dancing like two flames in the twinkling lights. Michael could see a hint of blue on his tongue as he stuck it out to lick his sticky fingers. Michael’s throat was tight and the Something reached desperately. <em>Please.</em> Rimmy looked over, noticing his staring.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What?” He grunted, “Did I get it on my face?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael shifted and leaned forward, kissing Rimmy’s sweet, still sticky lips. Rimmy pressed back eagerly, gripping at Michael’s shirt. Michael’s chest flooded with warmth and he felt the Something settle down, pleased with this lukewarm makeout session. When Rimmy pulled back for air, looking dazed, Michael licked the stickiness now on his own lips. <em>I didn’t think his kisses could get sweeter. </em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael blushed at thinking such a thing and turned away.<em> I need to get the fuck away from him. I need to leave. I’m entirely too close to just giving in. </em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“W-We should head home,” he muttered, “It’s getting late.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sure you don’t wanna go up?” Rimmy offered brightly, “Bet getting blown 100ft up is extra exciting.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He grinned at Michael, wiggling his eyebrows. Michael rolled his eyes.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not tonight, thanks,” he snorted, “I’m tired from having to lose a fight.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Also, if we go up, this’ll be a real date and I’ll be forced to hold your hand which I will absolutely, definitely <b>not</b> enjoy whatsoever.</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Is faking losing a fight more tiring than winning?” Rimmy wondered as they stood up.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You have to take more hits,” Michael pointed out, “Have to forget all your training and focus on not reacting how you’ve learned.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Guess that’s a good point,” Rimmy conceded as they walked, “Good thing I won’t have to fake losing any fights. At least not in my current circuits.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Circuits,” Michael repeated, “Plural?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He looked over at Rimmy, frowning.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re still fighting in the other rings?” He questioned.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“‘Course,” Rimmy answered, shrugging, “We don’t train every day. Only so many thieving jobs available too. Gotta do something to keep me occupied.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s dangerous,” Michael grunted, “If you’re weakened by another fight, your opponent will have an advantage.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Good for them,” Rimmy snorted, “They’re gonna need something to make the fight fair.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He grinned widely at Michael who rolled his eyes and shook his head. <em>Stop looking so pretty when you’re being a little shit.</em></span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>“Damn, Michael is so fucked, like, poetry level fucked!” -Caliope</p><p>The accuracy tho.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy had a black eye the next time they trained. Michael sighed at the sight of it. <em>He’s seriously going to get himself killed if he’s not careful.</em> Still, he was all grins and taunts as per usual. <em>The little shit.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How’s your stitches?” Michael questioned when they were done.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Great,” Rimmy answered, “I’ll be ready to go next week.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Good,” Michael grunted, “Try to at least not fight the day before.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You got it,” Rimmy agreed, firing finger guns at him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why are you nervous?” Michael wondered, “You think you’re not ready?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy hesitated, face turning away from him. Michael caught sight of the cute strawberry earring again. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I...think I’m ready,” Rimmy murmured, “It’s not really me I’m worried about.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael’s eyebrows came together.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’ve never killed anyone, have you?” He guessed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy looked back at him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“When would I have done that?” He grumbled, “I’m green, remember?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You don’t have to kill them,” Michael reminded him, “Just make them pass out. As long as they can’t fight any more, you still win.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy looked down at his hands, clenching them and unclenching them.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What if...I don’t have a choice?” He mumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“If you don’t have a choice, you don’t have a choice,” Michael muttered, “Defending yourself, if it comes down to it, isn’t fucking murder.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy sighed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“But I won’t lie,” Michael continued, “You’ll probably be different if you do have to kill someone. Something like that changes a person, shifts your view of the world and of yourself. But it doesn’t have to destroy you. You’ll still be Rimmy Tim at the end of all this.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy looked back up at him, smiling a little sad smile.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Your pep talks are getting better, coach,” he joked weakly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael was overcome with the need to comfort him. He reached out and squeezed Rimmy’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’ll figure it out, unstoppable,” he assured him, “And you’ll be okay, no matter what they throw at you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy’s eyebrows came together and his eyes stared into Michael’s. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You will...<em>be</em> <em>there</em>...right?” He asked quietly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“‘Course I will,” Michael snorted, “Still gotta get my cut, you know.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy relaxed slightly, giving him a much happier smile. A soft pleased smile like he’d given Michael before. Like he was genuinely glad and relieved. Michael tried to shove the Something down as he ruffled Rimmy’s hair. Rimmy scowled at him, grumbling as he bat his hand away.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“See you next week,” Michael muttered. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He turned tail and nearly ran to get the hell out of there. That moment was almost too much. He was sure if he’d stayed he may have hugged the man. <em>I bet his hugs are fucking amazing. Bastard.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">~</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael frowned at Rimmy’s shirt as they met up outside the arena. It was almost like a sports jersey. It was black with green stripes on the shoulders and the sleeves that ended just above his elbow and his name on the back with 13 under it while the front said “Team Ramsey”, all in green letters. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“King’s idea,” Rimmy grunted as he joined Michael by his car, “It’s because the other owners wanna fuck me. He thinks putting his name on me will help fend them off a bit. My stitches are out by the way. I should be fine.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Good,” Michael murmured, “Did you eat today?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy gave him a sheepish smile and Michael sighed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Woke up late again?” He guessed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Only every day,” Rimmy snorted, “Told you, I’ve got sleep problems.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They started towards the entrance.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Have you considered trazodone?” Michael muttered dryly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy barked out a sarcastic laugh.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sleep meds are too much,” he grumbled, “They make me sleep way too late and make me fuzzy. The only thing that works is completely exhausting myself. Then I sleep as long as I’m supposed to and wake up feeling actually rested.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Interesting.</em> Michael showed the door guard their invitation and they were given their wristbands and let through. Caffeine personified was there, greeting them with an excited “hi, hi” and leading them through the arena. They went to the cafeteria after Rimmy put his bag in his locker. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, they have actual food here,” Rimmy observed as they moved toward the counter.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The server loaded a tray for him and he thanked them profusely as he took it. He set it down at their chosen table and stared at it a moment.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’s wrong?” Michael asked.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Been awhile since I had a full real meal like this,” Rimmy admitted, “Mashed potatoes, green beans, turkey. It’s like Thanksgiving!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He started eating and Michael shook his head, smiling softly. <em>What a fucking dork. </em>Rimmy got distracted partway through eating, frowning at something over Michael’s shoulder. Considering Michael could feel eyes on him again, he had a feeling he knew what was annoying Rimmy.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That fighter that looks like they want to eat you made it through,” Rimmy grumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m sure they’re just scoping out competition,” Michael assured him, “Or maybe I’ve fought them before. I’ve fought a lot of people.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How many years have you been a fighter?” Rimmy asked.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Here in Los Santos, seven,” Michael answered, “I fought back East a few years. Before that I was a bruiser too. Nearly my whole life I’ve been punching people.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy stared at him in surprise.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, no wonder you’re so good,” he finally muttered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How long have <em>you?”</em> Michael questioned, raising an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy looked back at his food.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“When we first met, a few months,” he confessed quietly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael’s eyes went wide. <em>He’s that inexperienced?? Jesus fucking Christ!</em> He cleared his throat, pushing down a sudden swell of anxiety. No, Rimmy had been training and getting better. It didn’t matter how little experience he had, he was good. He was going to kick ass. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’d you do before?” Michael wondered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mostly thieving,” Rimmy answered around a spoonful of mashed potatoes, “I’m actually pretty good at it. Been stealin’ since I was pretty young.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So the fighting is the side job?” Michael snorted, “I thought it was the other way.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, I switched thieving to the side job,” Rimmy admitted, shrugging, “I got too good and it wasn’t tiring me out any more. Turns out fighting’s way better at exhausting me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael watched him eating a moment. <em>You really are a mess. A storm of destruction. Utter chaos incarnate. But the most beautiful disaster zone I’ve ever seen. </em>Rimmy looked up, catching him staring again and raised an eyebrow at him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>I want you to destroy me. Sweep into my life like the beautiful storm of chaos you are and ruin everything. </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m just wondering if I have something that needs to be stolen,” Michael joked.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Just your heart, I think,” Rimmy mused, grinning and winking.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>You already have that, you annoying little shit. </em>Michael shook his head, rolling his eyes. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Excuse me!” Caffeine chirped, suddenly beside them, “I have something for you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They held out an envelope to Rimmy.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Your take from the bets,” they explained.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He already has bets?” Michael questioned, surprised.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh yes,” they confirmed, “Everyone’s absolutely buzzing about the colorful Rimmy Tim. You have a few gifts waiting for you too.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy looked to Michael who nodded before taking the envelope. Caffeine bounced away while Rimmy opened the envelope. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, it’s cash,” he grunted, “Not sure why I expected anything else.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Cash certainly is harder to trace,” Michael murmured.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Will you hold it for me?” Rimmy requested, “I don’t wanna lose it, but I don’t wanna put it in my locker either.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael nodded and took the envelope, tucking it away. Rimmy finished eating and they made their way back to the gym area. They started through the usual stretches, but Rimmy paused partway through.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Can you grab me some Gatorade or something?” He grunted, “I feel a bit dehydrated.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael agreed and went to the cafeteria. He tried to hurry without liking like he was hurrying, anxious from leaving Rimmy alone. About as he’d expected, Rimmy had a bit of a crowd around him when he returned. They, of course, weren’t touching him, but they were verbally harassing him. Rimmy just ignored them as he stretched and waited for Michael to return. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Really, who’d you blow to get in?” One of them was sneering as Michael joined them.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He handed over the Gatorade and Rimmy chugged it pretty quick. <em>Well, at least he didn’t lie to get me out of the room.</em> No, he hadn’t lied, but he <em>had</em> known the others would bother him as soon as Michael left. They finished stretching while ignoring all the snide comments and started to warm up. Rimmy grinned at him as they traded blows. <em>This kid is really bad for my health. </em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No wonder he’s shit, look at his coach,” one of the fighters snickered, “Looks like he couldn’t stand up against a strong wind.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael rolled his eyes.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Excuse me?” Rimmy growled, grin dropping, “What did you say?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I said your coach sucks as much dick as you do, junior,” the fighter taunted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael lunged forward to grab Rimmy as he started to launch at the other fighter. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t,” he murmured in Rimmy’s ear, “You’ll get disqualified. That’s what they want.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You better hope you don’t fight me, asshole,” Rimmy spoke lowly, “Death isn’t the worst thing you can suffer.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Damn, dude.</em> Michael led Rimmy to a different spot, across the room from the fighter. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fucking asshole,” Rimmy spat as they went back to warming up.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t let it get to you,” Michael muttered, “They just want to rile you up.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No shit,” Rimmy sneered at him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Relax,” Michael grumbled, “You’re inviting more bullshit by letting it get to you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fucking whatever, dude,” Rimmy huffed, “I don’t need emotional lessons from <em>you</em> of all fucking people.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Alright. Ouch, first of all. Second of all, rude. </em>Michael rolled his eyes and they went quiet as they continued. Anxiety was really starting to get to Michael. He really didn’t think Rimmy would lose. He was afraid of what else could happen even without losing.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Broken bones were his main concern. There wasn’t a lot he could do about a broken bone other than splinting it temporarily. And broken bones were obviously high-priority targets. A massive bullseye to your opponents and an effective one at that. They were great distraction tools. Michael resisted the urge to rub over his left forearm where his own priority target had been. Round three had been pretty tough for him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Other than broken bones there was often scratching, particularly at the eyes. Scratching up someone’s face was very common. Michael felt queasy looking at Rimmy’s pretty face and imagining claw marks slashed across it. Though knowing him, he’d just end up with wicked looking scars that would make him even prettier. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Ding, ding!</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Can I have everyone’s attention?” Caffeine called out, “The pairings are now posted!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They moved over to check the list and Rimmy started laughing. He looked at the fighter who’d been talking shit.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You are so fucked,” he laughed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They looked mildly terrified and definitely like they were regretting their decisions. Michael frowned a bit as he looked at the list. Rimmy knew all the fighters by their name and face. He’d clearly done more looking into this than Michael had. Michael tried not to look at faces if he could help it. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Every fighter’s face in there except for Rimmy’s and the eventual champion’s was most likely going to end up vacant, staring at nothing with lifeless eyes. Michael didn’t want to think about it, he had enough of his own dead faces haunting him, he didn’t need these too. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Boi!” Gavin’s voice chirped, distracting Michael from memories he wanted to forget, “‘Scuse me! Sorry! Pardon me! Boi!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He was wading through the fighters filing out of the room towards Michael and Rimmy.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What is it?” Michael grunted when he made it to them, “I thought you weren’t allowed here?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Technically I’m not an owner,” Gavin pointed out, “I brought you this.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He held up a jersey that matched Rimmy’s. The front had “Team Ramsey” the same as Rimmy’s jersey, but didn’t have a number on the back or his name, only “coach” in the same blocky letters. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do I have to?” Michael grumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I designed this, you know!” Gavin huffed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael sighed internally as he pulled his shirt off. Gavin brightened up as they traded and grinned widely as Michael yanked the jersey over his head. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Black is definitely your color, boi,” Gavin teased, straightening the shirt, “Besides, you two matching is adorable! Best idea I’ve ever had!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael blushed, glancing at Rimmy’s matching jersey. He liked it. He liked matching Rimmy.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Whatever,” he muttered, telling the Something to fuck off.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It was your idea?” Rimmy questioned, surprised, “I thought it was King’s.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nope, all me!” Gavin answered, bouncing in the balls of his feet.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wait, did you send me that outfit then?” Rimmy pressed, “The flower suit? I thought that was King too.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Also me!” Gavin laughed, “But paid for by King. He likes when we dress you up.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael didn’t like that. Didn’t like the idea of Rimmy being someone’s little doll. Someone <em>else’s,</em> anyway.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sweetheart, you can dress me up any time,” Rimmy mused.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll hold you to that,” Gavin warned, grinning.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m counting on it,” Rimmy chuckled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Gavin bounced off and Rimmy and Michael made their way to the arena. Michael was trying not to think about dressing Rimmy up in various outfits as they sat. Waiting for a death match in the fucking Golden League was not the place to be wondering just how cute Rimmy would look in a little maid outfit.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Look at these useless gays.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy was facing off against a fighter called Carter, the one who’d talked shit on both him and Michael. Michael was a bit nervous about Rimmy getting sloppy. He tended to revert when he got pissed. Michael tried not to show that he was nervous though. He didn’t want to freak Rimmy out. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You loose?” He muttered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Just my asshole,” Rimmy snorted, “I’m fine. I’ve got this. Control and focus.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t forget,” Michael murmured, “Okay, you want me to hold onto anything else for you?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nah, I don’t got anything else on me,” Rimmy assured him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Your earring?” Michael pointed out.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s fine,” Rimmy dismissed, “Wouldn’t take it off for anything but a shower.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Whatever you say,” Michael muttered, “See you on the other side.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You so confident I’ll win, immovable?” Rimmy teased.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael wanted to joke or scoff or even lie, but he didn’t.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, I am,” he answered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy’s eyebrows went up and his lips parted in surprise. Then he grinned, his beautiful eyes sparkling.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“If <em>you</em> believe in me, that’s all I need, coach,” he mused.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael wanted to kiss his stupid pretty grin. Rimmy turned and headed into the ring, chin up, stride confident as always. Michael smiled a little at the letters on his back. <em>He’s got this. </em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Ding, ding!</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy twisted back and forth, dodging a series of jabs Carter threw toward the center of his torso. He threw his own jab at their nose and they threw up their arms to block it. He took the opening, slamming his foot into their side and sending them stumbling sideways. He spun the other direction, slamming his heel into their guts and sending them flying back, landing on their ass.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Pretty pathetic,” Rimmy sneered, “All bark, no bite, eh?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Carter got to their feet and lunged forward, throwing a wild hook toward his face. He leaned back easily to avoid the fist, laughing as he did so. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Come on now, surely you’ve got something better than that?” He taunted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They lunged at him and Rimmy grinned. He’d clearly predicted this. As Carter tried to tackle Rimmy, he stepped aside and brought his foot up, kicking their face and likely breaking their nose. Then he brought his leg back down, his heel hitting the back of their head in a perfect axe kick that sent them to the floor. They slammed against the floor, knocked out. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The ref came into the ring to ensure Carter was unable to continue fighting. They took Rimmy’s wrist and lifted his hand up. There was cheering up in the balconies and surprisingly among the other fighters too. Rimmy declined to finish off Carter and bowed before blowing more kisses to the owners. He trotted out of the ring and over to Michael to accept his towel and water bottle. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m bleeding,” he muttered under his breath.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll grab first aid and meet you in the locker room,” Michael answered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy nodded and they split up to do so. Michael was accosted by Caffeine as he picked up a first aid kit.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hi, hi!” They chirped, “I’ve got an invitation for the after party. For Rimmy.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They held out a black envelope. Michael took it, thrown a bit off guard from having forgotten about the parties. Caffeine bounced off and Michael went to the locker room. Rimmy was shirtless, leaning against his locker with his face screwed up in pain. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The knife wound was leaking and Michael felt queasy. Rimmy looked over and relaxed slightly as his eyes landed on Michael, giving him a weak smile. Michael hurried over, handing them the envelope and opening the first aid kit. Rimmy opened the envelope and read over the invitation.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“After party,” he grunted as Michael cleaned up his wound, “What a bunch of fucking assholes. They party after watching 32 people die??” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Of course they do,” Michael muttered, “They enjoy watching fighters beat each other to death. So obviously they’d celebrate it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Assholes,” Rimmy grumbled, “You gonna be my plus one?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael looked up in surprise, raising an eyebrow at him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re gonna go?” He asked.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“‘Course I’m goin’,” Rimmy snorted, “It says refreshments are provided.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael laughed, shaking his head as he returned focus to applying first aid.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, alright,” he agreed, “I’ll be your plus one.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Aces,” Rimmy murmured, “Guess I’ll see if Gavin and King wanna dress me up for this.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael fumed silently as he stuck butterfly bandages on Rimmy’s wound. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So was it just me or was that fight insanely easy?” Rimmy spoke as Michael finished.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It did seem that way,” Michael agreed, “But the first round is usually the easiest.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Guess that makes sense,” Rimmy muttered, shrugging, “Anyway, I guess we better meet the rest of Team Ramsey outside.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He put his jersey back on and they met up with King and Gavin in the parking lot. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Good fight, Rimmy,” King said in greeting, “Can I convince you to go to the after party?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Already convinced,” Rimmy assured him, “There’s food, so of course I’ll be there. I even got a date already.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He gestured at Michael.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m in it for the booze,” Michael offered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>
    <span class="s1">And of course seeing Rimmy dressed up again.</span>
  </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, we’ll meet you guys there then,” King announced, “It’s usually business casual, so what you wore the other night will do just fine.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Awe, here I thought you’d want to dress me up again,” Rimmy joked.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No time to this round,” Gavin grumbled, “But hey, next round we can get you a new outfit.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Exciting,” Rimmy laughed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They bid farewell and King and Gavin left.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Let me guess,” Michael muttered, “You need a ride.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rimmy grinned sheepishly at him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“If you don’t mind,” he chuckled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael rolled his eyes. They headed out and were mostly quiet until they got to Rimmy’s place.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You wanna come up?” Rimmy asked.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael followed Rimmy up to his apartment and into his bedroom. Their matching jerseys hit the floor and they kissed as Michael yanked his belt open and Rimmy dropped his shorts and boxers. Once they were free of clothes, Michael gripped the back of Rimmy’s neck as their mouths moved together and he backed Rimmy into the bed. They fell over it rather gracelessly, but Michael was careful not to bump Rimmy’s wound.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He shoved Rimmy’s legs apart as he pushed up between them and moved to bite at Rimmy’s neck. Rimmy groaned and Michael reached over to grab lube from the nightstand. He quickly coated his fingers and rubbed them over Rimmy’s asshole. Rimmy arched up as Michael pressed a finger inside him, sinking in fully in one smooth slide. He groaned, gripping at the sheets as Michael fingered him, quickly working up to two then three. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He was beautiful, twisted up and moaning, falling apart so easily. Michael wanted to fuck him over and over again just to see the way his face drew up. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I-I’m ready,” Rimmy mumbled, reaching weakly for Michael.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael leaned over him to let him put his arms around his neck as he rubbed lube over his cock. Rimmy shuddered as Michael slowly pressed into him. Michael’s eyes closed and his lips parted as his cock was enveloped by Rimmy’s hot ass. Why did a few weeks suddenly feel like years to be without this? Why was he craving Rimmy even worse than before? </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He leaned down to press his lips to Rimmy’s neck as his hips pushed flush against his ass. Why did he suddenly feel so overwhelmed with affection for the younger man? Why were things so different suddenly? </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m okay,” Rimmy whimpered, “Please move.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael’s hips rolled slowly and his lips kissed Rimmy’s skin gently. The <em>Something</em> was in bliss, happy they were pressed against Rimmy, happy this was so calm and warm, happy that this meant something. Michael buried his face completely in Rimmy’s neck, holding his thighs as he fucked him more gently than he’d ever fucked anyone before. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Not because Rimmy was fragile or he worried he’d hurt him, but because he wanted to savor every moment of it. He wanted to capture every second he got with Rimmy and keep it safely tucked away in his heart forever. Every moment was a treasure to him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He squeezed his eyes more tightly closed as his pace picked up and he put his hand around Rimmy’s cock. Rimmy’s legs wrapped around his waist and they panted together as they got closer and closer to orgasming. Rimmy came first, jerking against Michael and moaning right in his ear. Michael was not too far behind him, grunting as he slammed into Rimmy’s ass and filled him with heat. Michael braced his forearms on the bed, kissing Rimmy lightly over his neck. Rimmy’s hold on Michael tightened almost painfully.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“M-My name is J-Jeremy,” he whispered shakily.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I-I’m...Michael,” Michael returned just as shakily.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“P-Please stay tonight, M-Michael,” Jeremy pleaded.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I will,” Michael assured him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jeremy relaxed a bit, letting him lean over to grab some tissues and clean them up. He didn’t let Michael go completely though, almost as if he was afraid Michael would leave if he did. Michael didn’t try to pull away from him or get up. He just got them under the covers and let Jeremy snuggle into his chest, tucking his head under his chin. Had he ever really stood a chance?</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Significantly less sad than Shifting Loyalties.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jeremy woke Michael up as he shifted around.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Stop squirming,” Michael grumbled as he pulled Jeremy closer.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He pressed his nose into Jeremy’s hair, humming as he breathed in his scent. Sweat mostly, but a hint of his woodsy shampoo was still buried there too. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Didn’t peg you for a cuddler,” Jeremy muttered, “Hang on, I just gotta check my phone.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael kissed along his shoulder blade as he leaned over and grabbed his phone. Michael held him closely, pressing a kiss to his ear as he ran his hands over him. <em>Bunny.</em> He hummed, smiling softly. <em>My cuddly bunny.</em> Jeremy chuckled and ran a hand over Michael’s arm.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I like this part of you,” he mused, “But I gotta get up. So do you. We have to go to the after party.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Noooo,” Michael whined, squeezing Jeremy closer.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jeremy laughed, then turned around to face Michael again.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re such a dork,” he teased, rubbing his nose against Michael’s.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hmph.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jeremy smiled softly at him and Michael could’ve melted. Then Jeremy blushed, looking away nervously.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Um...th-thanks for staying,” he mumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Jones, you absolute dickbag, how could you have ever left him alone??</em> Michael leaned forward and kissed Jeremy firmly. <em>I won’t leave you alone again, I promise. </em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We need to brush our teeth,” Jeremy grumbled, nose wrinkling as they parted, “Time to get up.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ugh.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jeremy rolled out of bed and pulled his boxers back on while Michael sluggishly got to his feet. Jeremy was a morning person apparently. Michael pulled on his boxers and jeans, pulling out his phone as he got them on his hips. There was a message from Gavin telling him not to be late to the party. <em>Bleh.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As Michael sifted through the pile of Jeremy’s clothes for his jersey, he found a folded up note. <em>What the fuck is this?</em> He unfolded it to find it was another warning message. “Forfeit or die” was in black letters again, but this note had a splatter of blood on it. It was definitely dried blood not ink, based on the texture and color of it. Jeremy came back from the bathroom to see him holding it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’s that?” He questioned, coming closer.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I think you know what it is,” Michael muttered, “It was in your clothes.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jeremy took it and Michael pulled on his jersey.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“There a reason you didn’t tell me about that?” He asked quietly as he sat to get his shoes on.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I didn’t want to worry you,” Jeremy answered, gathering up his clothes, “It seemed to upset you last time. But it’s not that big of a deal.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He dropped his clothes in a hamper. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re mad,” he guessed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael sighed. He was annoyed, but it was a stupid thing to be annoyed over.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Just annoyed,” he admitted, “I don’t like being left out of the loop.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jeremy sat beside him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It really isn’t a big deal,” he insisted, “They just want to scare me off because they’re scared I’ll beat them. You know, since I’m so damn good.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He grinned at Michael who rolled his eyes.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I gotta go,” he muttered, “I’ll meet you at the party.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He started to stand, but Jeremy gripped his wrist.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No goodbye kiss?” He joked.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael rolled his eyes again, but leaned down and kissed Jeremy lightly. Jeremy was giving him the soft, heart-melting smile again when he pulled away. Michael supposed destruction of one's heart was alright when the source was so damn beautiful. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">~</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael felt weird and out of place when he arrived at the party. The venue was almost like a cathedral, the architecture was sort of Gothic looking and it had a large stained glass window. He definitely didn’t belong in this place.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, immovable,” Jeremy’s voice greeted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael lifted from where he was leaning against his car and turned to face him. He was once again breathtaking in his floral outfit. <em>God, he’s gorgeous. I can’t believe he lets me fuck him. </em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Shall we go in?” Michael suggested, prying his eyes away from Jeremy.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sure thing,” Jeremy agreed, sounding amused.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He showed his invitation at the door and they were let in. Inside was a small foyer where Caffeine and a few guards were stationed to check for weapons. They had little hand held metal detectors. They cleared Jeremy and Michael frowned as he stepped forward.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Uh, this is no good,” he grunted, “That thing will go off immediately. I have a lot of metal in me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Sure enough, as soon as they waved it over his arm, it crackled and beeped. They had him stand to the side to get patted down before they let him through. Jeremy waited patiently for this to resolve rather than going on ahead. Michael wasn’t sure why he bothered. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After they were both cleared, they entered what could only be described as a ballroom. There were food-laden tables lining the walls to the the left and right as well as several circular tables around the entrance. Past these was an open space for dancing, apparently and past that was a little stage where a band was set up, playing classical music. The thing that really drew Michael’s attention was the chandelier hanging from the ceiling, its sparkling light reflecting all over the shiny floors, off the jewelry of the occupants, and of course, in Jeremy’s eyes. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What?” Jeremy asked as he noticed Michael staring.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Your eyes are beautiful,” Michael answered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His own widened in alarm. <em>Oh god. The Something’s taken over my stupid mouth!</em> Jeremy’s face lit up like the Fourth of July, grinning widely, clearly pleased with Michael complimenting him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Boi!” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael almost got taken to the ground as Gavin slammed into him, he was so distracted by Jeremy.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fuck off,” Michael grumbled, pushing Gavin away.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re actually on time!” Gavin exclaimed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wonders never cease,” Michael muttered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So’s Rimmy, what a surprise,” Gavin laughed, “You guys were both excited for the party, huh?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael blushed, looking away.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Of course, I get to see you,” Jeremy laughed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re just here for the food,” Gavin accused, looping his arm in Jeremy’s, “Let’s go get some drinks first!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Where’s King?” Michael asked as he followed them.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He’s here,” Gavin assured him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>That didn’t answer my fucking question.</em> They got what Michael thought was three glasses of champagne, but wasn’t sure and found a table to sit at. One of the other fighters came over and chatted with Jeremy for a bit before leaving and Michael just half-listened to Gavin’s chattering. King joined them not long after and then Gavin dragged him off to dance. Jeremy decided now he was ready to eat and Michael followed him as he went to the tables of food. <em>Why am I following him around like a little lost puppy??</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Aren’t you hungry?” He asked around a mouthful of something.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not really,” Michael murmured, “I ate before I came.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“A good policy,” Jeremy snickered, “Eating before coming.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael threw him a dry look and he just laughed. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, look, strawberries,” he pointed out suddenly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael watched him put entirely too many strawberries on his little plate. He grinned mischievously at Michael who swallowed nervously. <em>I’m so fucked. What the hell have I gotten myself into? </em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Is it just strawberries?” Jeremy asked as they moved back to their table, “Or do you want to feed me anything?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael really didn’t want to answer. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Just strawberries,” he grunted anyway as they sat.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You know, I like this new honest side of you,” Jeremy teased, “Tell me more about the things you want from me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>I want everything.</em> Jeremy leaned closer to speak in Michael’s ear.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You seemed annoyed by Gavin wanting to dress me up,” he mused, “Are you hoping I’ll be <em>your</em> little doll instead, Michael?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The sound of his name on Jeremy’s sweet lips was like icing on the cake of Michael’s doom. He was in way over his head. Before he could blurt a very loud, probably very high-pitched affirmative, a shiver suddenly went up his spine and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. <em>Someone’s watching me.</em> Jeremy stiffened beside him, pulling away slightly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Someone’s-“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“-watching,” Michael cut in under his breath.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They carefully glanced around the ballroom, though they were unsurprised to find the person watching them was not there. Michael looked through the open balcony doors, across the nearby buildings. He caught sight of an oddly round shape among the sharp angles of the buildings. Someone was laying on their belly on top of a roof not too far from them. <em>A sniper. </em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The sniper raised their hand and flipped Michael off. Michael relaxed considerably, puffing out a relieved sigh.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t worry,” he muttered to Jeremy, “A sniper friend of mine is watching us.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What-why??” Jeremy wondered wildly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Dunno,” Michael grumbled, “But I have a feeling King does. I’m starting to get pissed off at this guy not telling me shit.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jeremy looked at Michael, eyebrows coming together in a concerned sort of look.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You don’t think he’s keeping anything important from us, do you?” He murmured.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, I <em>do</em> think that,” Michael answered, “I think he’s keeping fucking <em>everything</em> from us.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jeremy went quiet, looking away, suddenly seeming very distant. Michael hesitantly squeezed his knee.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s okay,” he assured him, “I’ll have your back whatever happens.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know,” Jeremy answered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He turned to smile softly at Michael. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know who’s in my corner, coach,” he added quietly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael’s heart was pounding in his chest. He was in so deep he'd drown before he ever got back up to the surface. <em>How fitting to run out of air when I'm with such a breathtaking man. </em>Michael winced. <em>Goddamnit, not the poetry again!</em></span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And the cuddling happened finally! You're welcome!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Chapter 18</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Michael tapped the table, annoyed as King and Gavin returned and sat. </p><p>"Why is BrownMan on a roof with a gun pointed at us?" He asked lowly.</p><p>Gavin and King shared a anxious look.</p><p>"I told you before," King murmured, "Lots of carefully laid plans."</p><p>"You couldn't just fucking tell me he was there?" Michael grumbled, "I really wouldn't have given a fuck <em>why,</em> if you'd just told me he was there."</p><p>King sighed, glancing away, looking hesitant and thoughtful a moment.</p><p>"I needed him for a conversation I was having with another owner," he explained, "This whole thing could've gone belly up in that conversation and I needed backup."</p><p>Michael stared at him a moment.</p><p>"How many people are you endangering in this job?" He wondered.</p><p>"Boi, it's not-" Gavin started.</p><p>"Ten," King interrupted, "Ten people are involved in this."</p><p>"And is it worth it?" Michael pressed.</p><p>"It is," King answered.</p><p>Michael glanced at Gavin who was giving him a twisted up look and back to King.</p><p>"Carefully laid plans, huh?" He muttered.</p><p><em>You little fucking snake.</em> King's calculating blue eyes seemed to recognize the moment Michael figured him out. </p><p>"Perhaps we can discuss this outside?" He suggested.</p><p>"Yeah, I think we better," Michael snorted.</p><p>"What's going on?" Gavin asked as they stood.</p><p>"I'm about to find out," Michael grumbled.</p><p>He and King moved out to the balcony, standing near the railing. Michael waited until he was sure no one was around to overhear before speaking.</p><p>"You got about three minutes before I tell my boi you used him to get to me," he growled, "You better have a really fucking good excuse."</p><p>"I don't," King admitted, "I contacted Gavin to get to you, because I knew you would work with me if <em>he</em> was working with me. And I needed someone who knew the Golden League."</p><p>"And why should I not beat the shit out of you right now?" Michael sneered, crossing his arms, "You think telling the truth will save you from a beat down?"</p><p>"Not really," King muttered, shrugging, "I figured you'd beat the shit out of me before the end of this, honestly."</p><p>"You're telling him," Michael insisted.</p><p>King sighed, looking away and gripping the railing tightly.</p><p>"I will...I just..." he murmured, "I'm...afraid of losing him."</p><p>"If you think he won't forgive you for this, you don't know him very well," Michael snorted, "Gavin is easy to please. Telling him it <em>was</em> about a job and then you fell for him will be plenty to convince him to forgive you."</p><p>"You really think I deserve forgiveness?" King grunted, raising an eyebrow at him, "Shouldn't you be more pissed off?"</p><p>"Oh, I'm fucking livid," Michael dismissed, "I hate being deceived, lied to. And I'm definitely beating the shit out of you. But getting with Gavin had nothing to do with getting close to me. You offered him a job under false pretenses, but the rest was all genuine. Who was your fighter when I played the League?"</p><p>"She wasn't <em>my</em> fighter," King answered, shrugging again, "But you wouldn't remember her anyway. She was taken out in the prelims."</p><p>"She involved in this too?" Michael questioned.</p><p>"She is," King muttered, "I'd have sent her through if returners didn't get noticed. <em>You</em> even got noticed."</p><p>Michael's eyebrows went up.</p><p>"Really?" He grunted.</p><p>"Oh, yes," King confirmed, "Everyone's talking about colorful Rimmy coached by raging Mogar. One of the few non-champions to survive so many rounds."</p><p>"Lucky me," Michael snorted, rolling his eyes, "After this is over, I'm kicking your ass. Then you're never going to try to deceive me or my boi again or you won't wake up the following morning. You got it?"</p><p>"I got it," King assured him.</p><p>"And from now on you put me in the loop or get a different sucker to work for you," Michael growled, "I don't need to know the details, but I need to know what we're up against."</p><p>"Fair enough," King agreed, "There's not a lot I can tell you. But well, Rimmy's in the most danger and only when he's in the ring. For now, anyway. We're after a certain owner who is quite resourceful, but as long as he doesn't know what we're up to, we're all safe."</p><p>"The one from the other night," Michael guessed.</p><p>"Yes, he's a bastard," King grumbled, "Unfortunately, he's got a lot of backup, so we can't just outright kill him. Even though I really want to."</p><p>Michael sighed.<em> What a pain in the ass this all is. Carefully laid plans. Fuck off. </em></p><p>"Gavin's part," he muttered, "How much danger is he in?"</p><p>"He's not in danger," King dismissed, "Of everyone, he should be the safest."</p><p>
  <em>Should.</em>
</p><p>"If he ends up hurt because of you," Michael spoke lowly, "You won't have to worry about me kicking your ass any more, because you'll be dead."</p><p>"I will do everything in my power to protect him," King assured him.</p><p>"Good, he's fucking sunshine," Michael grumbled, "He doesn't deserve to be hurt."</p><p>"He doesn't," King agreed.</p><p>"Alright, that's enough fucking talking for five lifetimes," Michael muttered, "Let's go back in before we become friends or something."</p><p>"Awe, but that's what I was hoping for," King joked as they headed back in.</p><p>"Fuck off, your majesty," Michael sneered.</p><p>Jeremy and Gavin were sitting side-by-side, heads together when they got back to the table. Michael squashed the flare of jealousy in him, trying to dismiss his mind reminding him that the two had also fucked. Michael sat next to Jeremy and Jeremy gave him a knowing little smirk. <em>You know everything, don't you? Little shit. </em></p><p>"So what was that about?" Gavin asked.</p><p>"Mogar figured out that I approached you in order to get to him," King answered, "And wanted to be sure I was going to tell you that."</p><p>"Oh, okay," Gavin muttered, looking back at his phone, "I thought it was something important."</p><p>King just stared at him.</p><p>"You already knew," he guessed.</p><p>"Was it a secret?" Gavin wondered, not looking up.</p><p>King pinched the bridge of his nose while Jeremy snorted, stifling laughter. Michael shook his head, lips quirking up a bit. <em>Damnit. I'm actually starting to like all these idiots. </em></p><p>"Excuse me, Ramsey?"</p><p>They looked around at the voice addressing King. Michael thought it was an owner, based on the ridiculously expensive suit. They had black and gray hair and a neatly trimmed gray beard. Their eyes were so dark they looked black. </p><p>"Can I help you?" King answered.</p><p>"Roy Thomas," the man introduced himself, "I believe we met briefly. I was hoping I could sit with you and your associates for a bit."</p><p>"No complaints here," King assured, gesturing to the open seats at the table.</p><p>Thomas sat next to Michael who wondered if this was one of the owners that sent Jeremy a suggestive gift.</p><p>"Mogar, correct?" Thomas prompted Michael.</p><p>"On a good day," Michael muttered.</p><p>"You may not recall, but I was a patron of yours," Thomas informed him.</p><p>"No, I don't recall," Michael admitted, "Because I never received anything sent to me."</p><p>"Your owner was one of those, then," Thomas guessed.</p><p>"Yeah, one of those," Michael snorted.</p><p>"I suppose Rimmy is lucky to have such a good owner," Thomas murmured.</p><p>"Yes, I'm very grateful to have such a great owner," Jeremy sneered, "The luckiest little bitch in all the League."</p><p>"I see you take after your coach," Thomas mused, "A very crude sense of humor, the two of you seem to have."</p><p>"Fuck you," Jeremy and Michael suggested together.</p><p>"Truly of one mind," Thomas laughed.</p><p>Michael rolled his eyes. The next several hours were spent with owners and fighters coming and going. Jeremy, King, and Gavin seemed to do great with it, everyone seemed to really like them while Michael exuded an aura of "get fucked". He was exhausted by the time they finally said he could leave. Jeremy walked with him out to his car. </p><p>"You wanna give me a ride again?" He asked, smiling sheepishly.</p><p>Michael frowned.</p><p>"Didn't you drive here?" He grunted.</p><p>"You're pretty stupid, aren't you?" Jeremy snorted.</p><p>"Rude," Michael grumbled.</p><p>True, but still. Rude.</p><p>"Michael, I've never needed a ride from you, dumbass," Jeremy admitted, shaking his head, "Not since the first time. I wanted a ride. I always ride with you and pick my bike up the next morning."</p><p>"You ask for a ride so you can ask me up to your place when we get there," Michael realized.</p><p>"No shit," Jeremy muttered, rolling his eyes.</p><p>"I'm way too fucking tired for that tonight," Michael dismissed.</p><p>Jeremy cleared his throat, looking away.</p><p>"Maybe you could just come over?" He murmured, "And be like you were this morning?"</p><p><em>Cuddly.</em> Michael's face went crimson. <em>He...wants me to come over just to cuddle. </em></p><p>"Okay," he mumbled, trying to ignore how bad his face was burning, "I can meet you there. So you don't have to get your bike in the morning."</p><p>Jeremy grinned at him.</p><p>"How thoughtful," he teased.</p><p>Michael reached for his face, holding his cheek as he leaned in to kiss him.<em> Just shut up, you beautiful bastard.</em> Jeremy smiled into the kiss. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Chapter 19</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael woke up to Jeremy’s phone ringing. He grumbled as Jeremy leaned over to grab it. He snuggled his face back into Jeremy’s hair the second he was back in range. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah?” Jeremy grunted into his phone, “What?...No, I gave it to him...I don’t know what to tell you, dude. I gave it to him...Talk to him then, not my business... No, I...Yes, but I...That’s not my-“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He sighed heavily, listening a moment.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Alright, where is he?” He grumbled, “I’ll go talk to him, but that’s it. I already delivered...Whatever. Bye.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He hung up and tossed his phone back on the nightstand, groaning in annoyance. Michael kissed the back of his neck as he squeezed him close. <em>Cuddlebunny.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re adorable right now, but I gotta get up,” Jeremy muttered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nooo,” Michael whined.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jeremy turned around to face him and rubbed their noses together.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You have work, dork,” he pointed out.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Meh,” Michael mumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not meh,” Jeremy scolded, “You must work.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael hummed in annoyance, but he kissed Jeremy lightly and let go of him so he could roll out of bed. Michael sat up on the edge of the bed, looking around blearily for his clothes. Jeremy was gathering up his own clothes. They were quiet a bit as Michael pulled on his clothes and Jeremy gathered his to throw in the hamper.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He dumped his clothes in the hamper as Michael picked up his blazer, his last article of clothing. Jeremy kissed him on the cheek which flamed red in response. Jeremy pulled away, but Michael hesitated to leave. The <em>Something</em> didn’t want to let go, now that it had managed to get a hold of Jeremy. Jeremy smiled at him and reached up to put his arms around his neck. Michael put his arms and his waist and pulled him close, pressing his face in Jeremy’s neck. He still vaguely smelled like his cologne. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How about you come over for dinner tonight?” He offered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mmkay,” Michael mumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He pressed a kiss to Jeremy’s neck and pulled back to kiss Jeremy’s lips too. Now <em>Jeremy</em> was hesitating, his face pink as he looked away nervously.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Is there...something else you wanted to say?” He asked.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No,” Michael grunted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nothing at all?” Jeremy pressed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, nothing at all,” Michael muttered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jeremy sighed. He seemed disappointed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Alright then,” he murmured, “See you tonight.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He kissed Michael again and pulled away.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“See you,” Michael returned.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He dragged himself away from Jeremy and out of his door. Waking up with Jeremy in his arms was like a beautiful dream he didn’t want to wake up from.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">~</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jeremy had a black eye when Michael came over for dinner. Michael wanted to sigh heavily, but figured he should just leave it. Technically it was Jeremy’s choice to fight or work whenever he wanted, but Michael couldn’t shake his anxiety over it. Being tired and injured in the Golden League was bad news.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So I don’t cook,” Jeremy muttered, “I figured we could have pizza. And maybe play something?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“A game?” Michael prompted, brightening up.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, if you want,” Jeremy answered, “I’ve got a lot of games. Plenty of couch co-op.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, I would like that,” Michael answered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I have all the Borderlands games,” Jeremy offered, “Halo and Diablo too. I have pretty much all the good Xbox games.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ve never actually played Borderlands,” Michael admitted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What?!” Jeremy demanded, “Unacceptable! We’re playing Borderlands!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Whatever you say, boss,” Michael laughed as Jeremy dragged him into his bedroom.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They played, ate pizza, and joked for hours. Michael couldn’t recall the last time he’d laughed so much and had so much fun just being with someone. He watched Jeremy’s bright, excited face as he explained something about the lore of the game. <em>I think I could change my whole life just to see you happy.</em> Jeremy truly was a very dangerous man.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">~</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After sleeping with Jeremy three nights in a row, being alone the fourth night sucked. Of course he couldn’t just move in with the man. It was way too early for that. He really didn’t want to rush things. He didn’t want to scare Jeremy off. It was the first time he’d had a somewhat steady relationship in years. He didn’t want to fuck it up.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“The hell you daydreaming about?” Ray wondered as Michael moved around him to clock in, “You’ve been super out of it the past...well, few months, but especially the past few days.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Bunny runnin’ through my head,” Michael mumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ah, flower guy?” Ray guessed, “From the party. That’s Rimmy Tim, right?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes,” Michael confirmed, swiping his ID card, “We’re something now. I’m worried I’m gonna fuck it up.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He rubbed tiredly at his eyes.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I have no idea why I just said that,” he grumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, I’m legit shocked,” Ray snorted, “You rarely ever spill so easily. This guy is really fucking you up, huh?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael smiled softly, warmth spreading in his chest.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, yeah he is,” he murmured.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Damn, dude,” Ray muttered, “You got it bad.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Guess so,” Michael grunted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Does he know that?” Ray wondered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael turned to look at him, frowning.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What do you mean?” He asked.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I mean, you tend to keep everything hidden,” Ray pointed out, “Does he know how much you like him? Or are you leaving him guessing?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael looked away, rubbing the back of his neck.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He knows everything,” he muttered, “Before I do. Before anyone does, I think.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So he’s pretty sure you like him,” Ray guessed, crossing his arms, “But you know if you don’t tell him somehow, he’ll still have some doubt. It’s rude to leave him hanging like that.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Damnit, he’s right. I need to tell him. I need to express my feelings like a normal, healthy person. </em>He probably wasn’t going to, but he knew he <em>should.</em> </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Fuckkkk</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Chapter 20</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael slept over at Jeremy’s more often than he didn’t in the weeks leading up to the second round of the League. He was floating on a cloud, though his brain told him this was all too good to be true. He knew something bad would probably happen to fuck everything up and he was alright with it. This small moment of peace with Jeremy was worth the inevitable fall.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hi, hi!” Caffeine greeted as they entered the building.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Speaking of peace or the lack thereof...</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Good to see you two again!” They chirped, “Right this way. They have dinner already prepared in the cafeteria, just FYI.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jeremy was certainly excited to hear that as they headed to the locker room.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why are you always so hungry?” Michael wondered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I never have time for breakfast,” Jeremy admitted, putting his bag in his locker, “I always sleep past my alarm and have to hurry out the door.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael frowned to himself as they headed to the cafeteria. <em>But he always wakes up before me and is super peppy. Or well, peppy in comparison to me, anyway.</em> Though that wasn’t exactly a hard achievement.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jeremy greeted some of the other fighters as they entered the cafeteria and got food. Michael was a bit jealous how easy it seemed to be for Jeremy to make friends. He’d never been good at it himself. Punching things, that was his deal.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jeremy ate and they warmed up. Michael was jittery like he was the one fighting. By the time they announced the pairings, he was practically vibrating. Jeremy could beat any of them, he was sure, so it wasn’t exactly nervousness, he didn’t think. More like anticipation. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jeremy scowled at the pairings for some reason. He apparently recognized his opponent and wasn’t happy about it. Considering how pissed off he seemed, Michael wasn’t sure he wanted to know why. They sat in the bleachers to await their match which was thankfully an earlier one.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jeremy remained quiet the whole time leading up to his match, silently stewing. Michael was starting to get worried by the time they were moving to the ring. He squeezed Jeremy’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Are you-?” He started to ask.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jeremy slapped his hand away.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fuck off,” he growled, “I don’t need your fucking comfort.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“O-Kay,” Michael grunted, “Whatever, man.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jeremy practically stomped into the ring like a child throwing a tantrum. <em>What the fuck is happening right now?? </em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>
    <span class="s1">Ding, ding!</span>
  </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jeremy avoided the first jab easily, but caught the upper to his ribs. Come on, Jeremy, control. Jeremy slammed his fist into his opponent’s sternum so hard Michael thought they may have lifted slightly off the ground as they stumbled back, gasping. They threw up their hands up as Jeremy pressed them, sending hooks toward their now guarded face. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’re you suddenly shy for, sweetheart?” He sneered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He broke one of their forearm bones with a loud crack, breaking their guard as they shouted in pain. He decked them in the face and they stumbled sideways. He twisted, slamming his foot into their ribs and this was a mistake. His opponent grabbed his ankle and slammed their foot into his other shin as they yanked him forward. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He bent back as he lost his footing, landing on his hands and sending his free foot into their chin. They let go of him as they wobbled back, but his legs wrapped around their waist to stop them from getting too far. He heaved, like he’d done to Michael, but instead of letting go, he smashed them head-first into the floor and flipped with them, landing on their stomach. They wheezed as he crushed the air out of them.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Laying down on the job,” Jeremy snorted, “Very unprofessional. But good night anyway.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He socked them in the face and what little consciousness they had left fled their body. Jeremy bowed as he was declared winner and blew kisses to the balconies again. He left the ring, ignoring Michael trying to offer him water and a towel again as he stormed into the locker room. Michael was very confused, very out of this loop. Jeremy stood in front of his locker, bracing his hands on it, breathing heavy.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Did you know?” He spoke cold and quietly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Did I know what?” Michael grunted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>
    <span class="s1">Clang!</span>
  </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jeremy left a dent in his locker door.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s rigged,” he growled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Rigged?</em> Michael thought about easy fight one was. How easy this one was for that matter. It was barely a fight. <em>So.</em> King was rigging the fight somehow. Probably Gavin hacking into whatever randomizing system they had for the pairings. Jeremy could beat anyone he went up against, but they were making sure.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s just the job,” Michael assured him, “I don’t think they fucking doubt you or whatever. They just have to be sure.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’s the point of me being so fucking good if they’re going to rig it??” Jeremy snapped, “All this fucking training and working was fucking pointless! They could’ve picked anyone!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, they still needed a good fighter,” Michael dismissed, “Even rigged, you’re going to face more difficult opponents as you move up.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“But the next fight is the last fight for me,” Jeremy pointed out, “King said he only needed three fights. Getting to this point was easy enough anyone could’ve done it. Fuck, all I’d have to do is fake my own death in three and be in the clear. This is too fucking easy. It’s fucking <em>pointless!”</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Clang! Clang! Clang!</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael grunted as Jeremy’s fist landed on his hand where he’d blocked him from hitting the locker again.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t fuck up your fist, you need that,” he muttered, “You’re not really here for the challenge, remember? You’re here for a job.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jeremy jerked away from him, mumbling under his breath.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What?” Michael grumbled, “I didn’t hear you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I said I’m not here for the fucking job!” Jeremy shouted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He gripped Michael’s jersey and slammed him against the locker.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You fucking asshole!” He growled, “Stop pretending to be fucking stupid! I’m here for <em>you!</em> I took the job to be near <em>you!”</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael stared at him in stunned disbelief. <em>What?</em> Jeremy’s face went red and his head dropped. His fists trembled in Michael’s jersey.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Please, stop pretending you don’t know,” he murmured, “It’s so obvious how much I like you. I get you don’t want to talk about it, it’s awkward and embarrassing, but...”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He leaned forward, dropping his head against Michael’s chest.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Please, don’t act like you don’t know,” he mumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael put his arms around him and pulled him close. He was blushing badly, his heart thundering in his chest.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I...I really didn’t know,” he admitted, “I’m actually pretty fucking stupid, it’s not an act.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, I guess I should’ve known that,” Jeremy snorted into his chest.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael brushed his hand through Jeremy’s hair. <em>I have to tell him.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Jeremy, I-“ he started.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He was interrupted by Gavin’s ringtone going off and he fumbled for his phone. Leave it to Gavin to have the worst timing in the world. Jeremy sighed, pulling away as Michael answered it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Boi?” Michael greeted, moving so Jeremy could get in his locker.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“B-Boi, don’t listen t-to them!” Gavin blurted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t listen to who??” Michael wondered wildly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He heard the sound of someone getting slapped and Gavin grunting. Fire exploded through his blood. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mogar,” a cool voice spoke, “Your boyfriend has quite the loud mouth.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m going to fucking kill you,” Michael growled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I wouldn’t threaten the man pointing a gun at your beloved’s head,” the man sneered, “What you’re going to do is have Rimmy Tim forfeit b-“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, that’s not what I’m going to do,” Michael snarled, interrupting, “I’m going to find you and I’m going to slice your fucking hands off for hurting my boi. You fucked with the wrong idiot, buddy. That one’s <em>my</em> idiot.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He hung up and twisted, blood roaring in his ears as he slammed his fist through a locker door. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’s going on?” Jeremy asked, “Who the fuck hurt Gavin?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael’s breathing was coming out too fast, recalling picking up Gavin’s shattered body in a dark alleyway. Recalling crying harder than he ever had before. Recalling the hospital, spending hours at Gavin’s side. Recalling how he didn’t look like himself. Recalling realizing he loved him and didn’t want to be without him. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jeremy was moving Michael, pulling his hand from the locker and guiding him to the bench. He pushed his head down between his legs and left a moment, coming back with a first aid kit. He rubbed gently at Michael’s wrist until his fist bloomed open and then began bandaging up his hand. The metal of the locker did a number on his skin, cutting him to pieces and he’d probably broken his index finger. Michael had calmed down some by the time he was patched up.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The fighter after Jeremy entered the locker room before Michael could explain the situation, so they went out to Michael’s car. Michael relayed the information and Jeremy called King out to join them. King paled at hearing the news and turned, bracing his hands on Michael’s trunk as he wobbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It can’t be the guy we’re after,” he muttered, “He’s too confident in his fighter. And he’d have contacted me, not you. One of the others must’ve gotten scared of Rimmy winning.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How the hell would they have known Gavin was a bargaining chip for me??” Michael demanded.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">King and Jeremy both gave him a dry look.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“But Gavin’s here with <em>you,”</em> Michael argued.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“In disguise,” King pointed out, “And he wasn’t here tonight. So they picked up Gavin, not his cover.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael felt dizzy. <em>It’s my fault. They took him because of me. </em>Jeremy squeezed his shoulder.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s okay,” he assured him, “We’re gonna get him back.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Damn straight we are,” King agreed, “And we’re going to make sure the League hears about this cheating. They’ll destroy the fucker.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael nodded, rubbing the heel of his hand into his temple. He was already exhausted. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Oop</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Chapter 21</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">King handled the tracking down who took Gavin, which was fine with Michael. He wasn’t good at detective work. Punching, that was what he was good for. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He and Jeremy were to meet up with King and his friend, Wings and the four of them were going into the abandoned building they’d tracked Gavin to. Ray was across the street on a roof, watching the windows. Michael and Jeremy were going on the back and King and Wings were going in the front. Since they didn’t know for sure where Gavin was, they were going to sweep alternate floors to try to find him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It wasn’t a bad plan, but Michael was still worried. He was holding his steering wheel so tightly he wouldn’t have been surprised if it had snapped as he drove to the meetup point. All he could think of was the time Gavin almost died. Michael had promised him if he pulled through, he’d be sure he protected him from then on.<em> I should’ve been there. If I’d just been there, it never would’ve happened. If I’d been with him this time...</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He was jarred from his misery by Jeremy squeezing his knee.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s gonna be okay,” he assured Michael, “We’re gonna get him back.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael puffed out a sigh and relaxed a bit. He was right. Between the two of them, no one stood a chance. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know you said you’re not...” Jeremy mumbled, “But it <em>really</em> seems like you are in love with him.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m not,” Michael grunted, “I do love him more than is good for my health, but it’s not romantic...We’re two puzzle pieces that slot together, but it’s all completely platonic. You, on the other hand, I have a lot of fucking romantic interest for.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He was blushing badly as he tried to slip it into the conversation casually. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know,” Jeremy snorted, “You don’t have to talk about it. I know it makes you uncomfortable. It’s...embarrassing.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, it’s...no, I should tell you,” Michael muttered, “You deserve to hear it. I really fucking like you. Like a lot. And I’m sorry I’ve been such an idiot asshole about this.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, um, th-thanks,” Jeremy stammered, “I-I really fucking like you t-too.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael glanced at him to see his face was just as red as his own. He smiled. <em>We’re both pretty fucking stupid, but we’re gonna get there. Maybe.</em> They were mostly quiet for the next few minutes it took to get to the meetup. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael wasn’t sure what he was expecting from the woman called Wings, but a beautiful, curvy redhead in a Hawaiian shirt was not it. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey there,” she greeted, holding out her hand, “Wings. You must be Mogar.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“In the flesh,” Michael answered, taking her hand, “Good to meet you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re not exactly what I was expecting,” she snorted, “The way Vagabond talked about you, I thought you’d be...bigger.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You know Blue too?” Michael grunted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“About as well as you can know someone like him,” Wings muttered, turning to Jeremy, “And you must be Rimmy Tim. A pleasure to meet the legend that King won’t shut the fuck up about.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Shucks, boss, you talk about me?” Jeremy cooed at King.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Of course I do,” King muttered, “How could I shut up about our ringer?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Speaking of, why the hell are you rigging the game for me?” Jeremy grumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Carefully laid plans,” King answered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jeremy rolled his eyes, but dropped the topic for the time being. They waited for Ray to confirm he was in position before splitting up again. Jeremy and Michael caught the back door guards’ attention and knocked them out when they came to investigate the mysterious noise. Then they headed in and took the stairs to the second floor. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There weren’t any guards on floors two or four and also no Gavin. Floor six had a few guards and floor eight, the top floor, was heavily guarded. It seemed apparent this was where Gavin was. Michael sent a message to King and they waited for him and Wings to finish floor seven. Then the two pairs entered floor eight together to flank the occupants. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was almost depressing how easy the job was. Michael barely broke a sweat and Jeremy looked bored as hell. It annoyed Michael that such a shitty villain had kidnapped his boi. <em>At least have the decency to be halfway decent, you second-rate bastard.</em> Gavin was bruised, but okay. Better than okay, he’d swiped the guy’s phone (also his watch and wallet, but that was less helpful) and now they had evidence. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sorry I worried you again,” Gavin murmured as Michael cut the zip ties off him, “I probably coulda gotten out on my own.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Dumbass,” Michael grumbled, “Having friends means you don’t have to do anything alone.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He helped Gavin up from the chair he’d been tied to and pulled him into a hug.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You fucking scared me,” he muttered, “I was so sure it was going to be like last time.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No way,” Gavin assured him, squeezing him back, “This guy is depressingly incompetent.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No kidding,” Michael snorted, “You really could’ve gotten out on your own.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know, so boring,” Gavin laughed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They pulled away and King hugged Gavin next, squeezing him tightly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fuck, that was scary,” he huffed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t worry, love,” Gavin soothed, “I’m pretty resilient. Not gonna die zip tied to a chair, I assure you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">King pulled back and kissed him firmly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I think I like you too much for my own good,” he joked, smiling lightly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“‘Course you do,” Gavin answered, lifting his chin, “I’m incredible. What’s not to like?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">King laughed, bumping their foreheads together.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not a goddamn thing,” he mused. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jeremy started making gagging noises.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“God, you two are <em>so</em> gay,” Michael agreed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sort of the point, innit?” Gavin snorted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Alright, let’s get out of here,” King muttered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He and Gavin led the way and Michael looked at their hands clasped together. He glanced at Jeremy’s hand, hanging by his side. Empty. <em>Do we...Can we do that now? Hold hands?</em> He looked ahead, blushing. Did he want to hold hands with Jeremy? He really wasn’t sure. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The group of five met Ray at their cars. He had his magenta gun propped on his shoulder and was wearing his mask, which Michael had almost forgotten he did when he worked. It covered from above the nose down and his dark hood helped obscure the top half of his face as well. Still, Michael could see recognition in his eyes when he looked at Jeremy and he could practically see the delighted grin under the half mask. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You must be the bunny,” he greeted Jeremy.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael blushed completely crimson and socked Ray in the arm.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sh-Shut up!” He hissed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You talk about me too, immovable?” Jeremy guessed, sounding way too amused. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Apparently he can’t get the bunny out of his head,” Ray provided cheerfully.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m going home!” Michael announced, turning toward his car.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hold up, Mogar!” King called from where he was at his trunk, “I have something for you guys.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He gestured them over and they all came over to see what was in the trunk. Weapons was the answer. Guns mostly, but plenty of melee too. He opened a large case which had a row of ceramic guns lined up inside. The type that went unnoticed when passing through a metal detector. Each had a different color and design, though the base weapon was the same. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Gavin eagerly stepped forward to take the golden gun, the shiniest and gaudiest of the group. Ray took the pink one covered in red roses. Jeremy picked up the one with purple, yellow, and orange flames on it. Michael looked at the remaining four. One had curly black lines all over it. One had white feathers with silvery swirls around them. One was all black with a skull outline on the grip. The last had a wolf on it, its teeth bared as it snarled at Michael. He picked it up and held it in his hand. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You trying to bribe us, your majesty?” He grunted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m totally bribed!” Ray announced.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">King laughed as he picked up the feathered gun for Wings and the curly black-lined gun for himself.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Let’s just say I want to be your friend,” he answered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>More carefully laid plans,</em> Michael assumed, rolling his eyes. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Boring missions for the win.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Chapter 22</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael pressed the elevator call button, looking around the marble-floored lobby of the apartment building. If it could be called that. The place was way too fancy for him. He was definitely out of place, but it wasn’t his place, so that made sense. The elevator dinged and he stepped on board. He pressed the 33 button and watched the numbers above the door slowly tick upward. He supposed King really did fit this place. All high class and that fucking garbage. Gavin must love the place too. He liked fancy stuff.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The elevator dinged and he stepped onto floor 33. There were a few doors, but one was open with familiar voices drifting out of it. He went through the door and found King, Gavin, Jeremy, Ray, and Wings all already there, lounging in what was a living room the size of Michael’s apartment. Michael considered buying a house with his cut of the winnings from the League. Then maybe he wouldn’t look so abysmal by comparison.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, immovable,” Jeremy greeted as Michael sat between him and Gavin, “You get lost?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, but I thought I did,” Michael admitted, “Thought I had the wrong building. Looked too nice.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, now that we’re all here,” King spoke up, “We can discuss our plan.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>“Our</em> plan?” Michael scoffed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Alright, my plan,” King corrected as he rolled out a map.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was the third round arena and the buildings around it. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So BrownMan will be here in the apartments to the south,” he began, tapping the map, “To cover the back. Wings will be waiting at a van. The rest of us will enter as normal. Gold will be hitting the server room, while the rest of us continue the ruse as usual. After the match, Rimmy and Mogar delay the rest of the cleanup crew while Gold and I go out to the van. You need to delay at least ten minutes to give us time. Up to you how you do that as long as you don’t get yourselves in trouble. After that, we leave in the van and pick up BrownMan. Any questions?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We got ear pieces again?” Jeremy asked.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, we’ll be able to communicate the whole time,” King assured.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>He didn’t actually say what we’re doing.</em> Michael rolled his eyes. <em>How carefully laid are these damn plans? </em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“One last thing,” King muttered, “Mogar, we’ll need you to smuggle in this.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He held out a little box which he flipped open to reveal a syringe with some liquid in it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“The hell is that?” He grunted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“A drug that imitates death for a limited time,” King answered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Fuck, all I’d have to do is fake my own death in three and be in the clear. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Ah, I see.</em> Michael took the box.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why me?” He wondered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re the only one who has a reason to be setting off metal detectors like crazy,” King answered, “The collar of your jersey should have the perfectly sized pocket for the syringe.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Carefully laid plans. Jesus. How many steps ahead is this guy?? </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Everyone has the details of their specific jobs already,” King concluded, “So that’s really all we needed to discuss. Unless anyone has anything else?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">No one spoke up, so he offered to order pizza and they all ate before filtering out of the place. Michael ended up sharing an elevator with Gavin.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Your role in this, are you safe?” He questioned.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Probably the safest of everyone but Ray,” Gavin answered, “You and Rimmy are in the most danger. You won’t even be armed. They’ll still have to pat you down when you set off the alarm.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Guess that’s true,” Michael murmured, “Is there a reason why we had to wait until round three for whatever it is you’re doing?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We needed the servers in the round three arena,” Gavin explained, “They contain the information we need to take this guy down for good.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“This guy really that bad?” Michael grunted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He forces people to fight for him,” Gavin muttered, “He’s a ghost owner too. There’s at least four other fighters he’s controlling.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ghost owner, someone who hired people to pretend to be owners so they could enter more than one fighter in the league.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Also he’s a total creep,” Gavin added, “Tried to bribe me to sleep with him while I was disguised. And called Rimmy a worthless midget.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael’s fists curled tightly as the elevator dinged. <em>Yeah, this guy needs to die.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, by the way, we got the guy that kidnapped me,” Gavin suddenly recalled as they walked through the lobby, “You told me to let you know and I totally forgot. The League was really mad.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, they don’t like cheaters,” Michael snorted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Funny considering how totally fucked this all is,” Gavin grumbled, “I wish we could take down the whole thing.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Would be nice,” Michael agreed, “You need a ride?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thought you’d never ask,” Gavin laughed, looping his arm through Michael’s.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Dumbass whore,” Michael sneered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Dumb asshole,” Gavin returned.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They got in Michael’s car and he drove Gavin home. Gavin hesitated to exit when they got there. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I...I’m not in as much danger,” he murmured, “But of course I am still in danger. The thing is, Rimmy is the one who needs you this time. You have to stick to him, boi.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why?” Michael grunted, frowning, “Why does he need me?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He’s cheating and he’s going to cheat even more round three,” Gavin muttered, “If they catch wind of it, they’ll do whatever they can to get him. He’s capable, but against the whole league? He needs <em>you.”</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He sighed and looked at Michael who suddenly realized he wasn’t wearing make up, jewelry, or anything in his hair. He looked his age for once. Looked <em>tired.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Besides, you can’t keep focusing on me, boi,” he added quietly, “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but I haven’t done anything for you to have a debt, Michael. You don’t owe me anything, okay?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael looked away.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“But if...I’m not your protector,” he mumbled, “What am I?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Gavin took his face in his hands and smiled lightly at him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re Michael Jones, a bloody good fighter and a fiercely loyal friend,” he answered, “You’re still my boi, but you’re not my shield.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael rubbed at his burning eyes. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay,” he sniffled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Gavin hugged him and he hugged back tightly. Michael was lucky, he supposed. Not everyone got to have a friend as good as Gavin. Even if he was a little shit.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Fucking ughhh</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Chapter 23</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <em>
    <span class="s1">“Michael~!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael hummed, shifting to roll over, toward the direction of Jeremy’s sing-song calling. The bed shifted and Jeremy’s very familiar ass settled on Michael’s thighs. Michael blinked hazily, running his hands up Jeremy’s thighs. He and his cock both woke up and jerked upright at the sight of Jeremy.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What do you think?” Jeremy asked, grinning.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael swallowed as he looked over Jeremy’s outfit. It was a set of lingerie, pink satin with white trim. A bra, crotchless panties, white stockings, and a garter belt. And of course, a pair of bunny ears on top of his head. Lord have mercy, is what Michael thought. He cleared his throat nervously.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I...I wanna see the tail,” he mumbled, face red.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jeremy looked positively delighted by this. He turned on Michael’s lap to show off the fluffy white tail on the back of the panties. Michael knew he was fucked. Then Jeremy shook his ass, grinning over his shoulder at him. <em>This is so not fair. </em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You look like a hungry little wolf, immovable,” he teased.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He widened his eyes and pouted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Are you gonna eat me?” He simpered, clearly entirely too amused.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael pulled his legs out from under him, gripping his hips and shoving him forward. Jeremy grunted as he toppled over, face down, ass up. Before he could push himself up or make any more smart ass comments, Michael’s tongue swiped over his asshole which was loosened and wet with lube. Jeremy let out a tiny breathless “ah” and his thighs trembled. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael’s teeth scraped against Jeremy’s ass as he licked roughly over his asshole. Then he pressed the tip of his tongue inside him and Jeremy groaned, shuddering. <em>Nothing to say now, unstoppable? </em>He pressed his tongue in deeper, squeezing Jeremy’s ass in both hands. Jeremy was trembling, making little whimpering and groaning noises as Michael fucked his tongue into him. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“M-Michael,” Jeremy huffed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael pulled back to turn and sink his teeth into Jeremy’s ass, below the edge of the panties. He pressed two of his fingers inside him, curling down.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“M-Michael!” Jeremy groaned.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’s wrong, bunny?” Michael taunted, “I thought you were offering yourself up to be eaten?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mi-chael!” Jeremy whined.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael sank his teeth back into his ass, rubbing circles downward with his fingers. Jeremy whimpered into the sheets, his legs shaking badly. Michael bit and sucked marks all over his ass and thighs, above the stockings while he fingered him, intentionally too slow to get him anywhere. Jeremy slowly lost himself, collapsing on the bed and moaning, weakly clutching the sheets.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Michael, please!” He finally cried.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael lifted up, leaning over to grab lube from the nightstand and Jeremy whined impatiently. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fucking brat,” Michael snorted as he rubbed lube over his cock, “I could damage you if I’m not careful.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jeremy made a soft, broken sound and his wet eyelashes fluttered like this was a scenario he could get behind. <em>Fucking Christ, you’re dangerous.</em> Michael leaned over Jeremy, bracing his hand near his head as he guided himself into his wet, loosened asshole. Jeremy bit his lip as Michael pressed his cock inside him, groaning softly. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jeremy’s back curved a bit, as well as it could with Jeremy flat on the bed. Michael’s eyes were drawn down to the fluffy tail as Jeremy’s ass pushed up into him. <em>God, he did all of this just for me. Again.</em> He pressed a gentle kiss to Jeremy’s neck as his hips pressed against his ass. <em>It’s really not fair. How am I supposed to return this favor?</em> He buried his face in Jeremy’s neck.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“M-Michael,” Jeremy sniffled, “I-I’m okay. You can move now...p-please.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Fucking Christ.</em> Michael lifted up, pressing more gentle kisses against his shoulder and neck as his hips rolled slowly against Jeremy’s ass. His hand ran up from Jeremy’s thigh to his side, feeling his warm skin and the satiny lingerie. He traced up the bra strap as his pace picked up and his fingers brushed down his muscled arm to his elbow then to his wrist. He wrapped his hand over Jeremy’s where it was fisted in the sheets. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jeremy’s hand relaxed and Michael threaded his fingers through his. He looked back at Jeremy whose face was as pink as the lingerie as he shyly met Michael’s gaze. Michael leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the corner of Jeremy’s mouth. He nuzzled Jeremy’s ear as he focused his thrusting more. Jeremy moaned beautifully and tensed under him. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I am the luckiest man in the entire world,” Michael murmured. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jeremy’s face went scarlet and he sputtered, but was easily distracted by Michael driving harder and deeper into him. He started his string of “fuck” “yes” and “Michael” as Michael fucked him into the bed. He jerked, head nearly bashing into Michael’s as he came against the bed, moaning loudly. He went limp as Michael quickly followed after him, biting into his shoulder and growling as he came in his ass.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He rolled off him, dragging him along onto his side as they tried to catch their breath. He grunted at the bunny ears in his face and tugged off the head band to toss it. Jeremy laughed breathlessly as the ears went flying and Michael buried his nose in his hair. Michael pulled him close to his chest, pressing his hand over Jeremy’s heart. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Michael, will you be my boyfriend?” Jeremy suddenly asked.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His heartbeat skyrocketed under Michael’s palm.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes,” Michael answered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jeremy puffed out a relieved sigh.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I-I wasn’t sure if you...I dunno, <em>did</em> boyfriends, I guess,” he muttered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll do you a lot, I’m sure,” Michael snorted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jeremy whacked his arm and Michael laughed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">~</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael was jittery again as he and Jeremy entered the third round arena. It wasn’t the gun Jeremy was smuggling or the syringe <em>he</em> was that made him so. It was the fight. The fact Jeremy was going to fake his death. Gavin’s ominous warning. Michael was nervous for Jeremy. Or rather nervous over the details. Knowing half the story was a pain in the ass, but he figured the more he knew, the more likely he was to fuck it up. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Can you take my bag to my locker for me?” Jeremy requested, “And make sure my jersey is ready?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He gave Michael a significant look as he handed over the bag. Switch the syringe is what he meant.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You got it,” Michael agreed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Great, I’m gonna go get something to eat,” Jeremy grunted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They parted and Michael took Jeremy’s bag to locker 13. He ensured he was alone before slipping the syringe into the pocket on Jeremy’s jersey. He hung the bag and it up in the locker and closed it. His hands were shaking. He clenched them into fists. What if something went wrong? </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He braced his shaking fists on the locker. Too many people he cared about were in on this. <em>Ray, Gavin, Jeremy. That’s nearly a majority. Half and half. All I need is one more and-</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, spitfire,” a soft, bassy voice greeted him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael’s eyes widened. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>
    <span class="s1">Ryan?!</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Chapter 24</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael whipped around to find Ryan smiling weakly at him where he was leaning against the lockers. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Been a while,” he murmured.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael was frozen, unable to tear his eyes away from Ryan’s. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Y...You’re here,” he breathed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Unfortunately,” Ryan muttered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What...why are you here?” Michael whispered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He felt like if he talked too loudly, the moment would shatter and Ryan’s image would disappear. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I was kidnapped,” Ryan answered, “I’m being forced to fight.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Forced to fight.</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We’re here for you,” Michael realized, “This whole thing has been about you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Unfortunately,” Ryan repeated, “I did try to dissuade your fighter, but I think my warnings didn’t come across very well.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael pressed his hand to his forehead, suddenly feeling dizzy.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s not for him, it’s for you,” he mumbled, “We’re faking your death.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That sounds like King,” Ryan grumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s why he kept asking me questions about you,” Michael muttered, “I... wondered why he cared about a guy who wasn’t in San Andreas any more.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, that didn’t exactly pan out,” Ryan snorted, “Day before I was to head back East, I got snatched.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You got snatched??” Michael demanded, “How??”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t have time to detail my failures, spitfire,” Ryan muttered tiredly, “I need you to pretend you don’t recognize me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Uh, what?” Michael grunted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“King will ask you if you recognize my face,” Ryan explained, “You need to tell him you don’t, so he calls this off.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>That’s why he wanted to know if I’d seen him without the mask. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why would I call this off?” Michael wondered, “After everything we’ve all been through, why the hell would I just fucking quit now?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Have you been through so much, spitfire?” Ryan sneered, “Seems to me you’ve been enjoying yourself with little Rimmy.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He smirked, pushing off the lockers as Michael went red. He crowded into Michael’s space, bracing his hand on the lockers by Michael’s head.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Let me guess, you met him in the ring?” He mused, “You really like fucking your opponents, don’t you, spitfire?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael’s face was on fire.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Th-This is just a-a coincidence!” He huffed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Uh-huh,” Ryan snorted, rolling his eyes, “Fucking and fighting aren’t nearly identical for you at all. And I’m sure the little slut doesn’t spread his legs the second you get rough.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t call him that,” Michael growled, shoving Ryan out of his space.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why not?” Ryan wondered, “Isn’t that what he is? A little slut that’ll bend over for you whenever you want? Bet it was so easy to get him into bed, bet he begs for it. Why’s he even fighting? It’s obvious what he’s really good for is a hole to fuck.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael reeled back to sock him in the mouth, anger coursing through him like fire in his blood. But Ryan’s face softened a second before Michael started to swing. <em>Wait. Ryan’s never like this. Why’s he doing this?</em> Michael’s fist dropped from the air.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re trying to provoke me so I’ll get kicked out for fighting you,” he realized.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ryan’s face drew up in annoyance and he sighed as he looked away. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Just...give this up,” he muttered, “I’m not worth anyone risking this much.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not how King tells it,” Michael snorted, “Said you’re worth all the risk.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“King is an emotional idiot,” Ryan argued, “I refuse to even call him friend, yet here we are.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Just because you won’t call him friend, doesn’t mean you’re not friends,” Michael dismissed, “Also someone doesn’t have to care about you for you to care about them.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ryan sighed again.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I can’t just let you all risk your lives for me,” he insisted, “Just tell your fighter to fake his own death instead. Then get out and don’t bother looking back.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not gonna happen, blue,” Michael scoffed, “There’s entirely too many people who already worked their asses off. We’re rescuing you. Fucking deal with it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ryan looked over at him again, face full of exasperation. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fine, I’ll cooperate just because I know you won’t give up,” he grumbled, “Stubborn bastard.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You know it,” Michael agreed, “Stubbornness is how you get to a point where people don’t fuck with you because it’s just too much effort.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ryan shook his head.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Truly remarkable how hard your head is,” he muttered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A small twitch of a smile ghosted over his lips and Michael grinned back. They exited the locker room separately and Michael sent King a text to let him know he’d talked with Ryan. He sat with Jeremy in the cafeteria who smiled at him around his fork.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How’re you doing?” Michael asked.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Good,” Jeremy murmured around his bite of food, “Excited. You?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Jittery,” Michael admitted, “But ready for this round to be over.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jeremy nodded his agreement. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You don’t have any bruises,” Michael suddenly realized.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He looked down at Jeremy’s knuckles. Not split or bruised at all.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You haven’t been fighting,” he guessed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not as much,” Jeremy admitted, “I don’t have to exhaust myself to fall asleep every night now.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His face was pink and he was avoiding eye contact. <em>Oh.</em> Michael blushed as well, clearing his throat. <em>I help him sleep better. </em>He also avoided eye contact. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Glad to be of help,” he mumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They were pretty quiet for the rest of the time until the pairings. Unsurprisingly, Jeremy paired with Ryan or rather with number 26, who was unnamed. Ryan came over to introduce himself to Jeremy.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Rimmy Tim?” He greeted, holding out his hand.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s what most people call me,” Jeremy answered, taking his hand, “What should I call you?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Everyone here calls me 26,” Ryan muttered, “You’re free to call me whatever you wish.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Seems like “blue” might be appropriate,” Jeremy suggested, raising an eyebrow at Michael.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Is this the right guy?</em> He was really asking.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, I think that’s a good name,” Michael confirmed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, I look forward to our match, blue,” Jeremy chirped, “Don’t go easy on me just because I’m so pretty.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He grinned and winked at Ryan who raised an eyebrow at him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Flirting with a man you intend to fight to the death seems poor taste, Mr. Tim,” he murmured.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Flirting is like my whole deal though,” Jeremy laughed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I assumed fighting was,” Ryan admitted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Actually it’s more stealing,” Jeremy corrected, “I steal everything not nailed down, including hearts.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He winked again.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I fear you’re not my type,” Ryan snorted, “So I don’t imagine you’ll be stealing mine before I win.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You that confident in your win, blue?” Jeremy mused, “Didn’t you hear how good I am?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ryan leaned in closer to Jeremy’s face. Some of the other fighters seemed to be taking note of this confrontation, which Michael imagined was Jeremy and Ryan’s plan.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Didn’t you hear I only ever lost to one man?” Ryan spoke lowly, “I don’t intend to easily tarnish such a record. I’m afraid, unlike your previous opponents, you will have to kill me to stop me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t have to stoop to your level, blue,” Jeremy sneered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We’ll see about that, Rimmy Tim,” Ryan countered before walking away.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The other fighters whispered amongst themselves as Jeremy crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. Michael figured this was all about setting the stage. Hopefully it helped everything go according to plan.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael did his best to contain his jitters as they waited patiently for their time. He didn’t realize until Ryan and Jeremy were facing off that this was not a situation he was okay with. Two men he cared about, squaring off. Then they started fighting. He really didn’t like that. Their boots and fists smashing into each other. Growling viciously at each other. Bloodying each other’s faces. He hated it. It twisted him up inside.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It didn’t get any better when Ryan finally collapsed. Jeremy slammed his fist in his face one last time and Ryan went completely limp. Michael hated that image, even if it was fake. Jeremy was breathing heavily as he was declared winner, clutching his side where Ryan had landed a bad blow. He was staring at Ryan, face pale. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ten minutes and counting,” King spoke in Michael’s ear.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jeremy spoke to the ref as they confirmed Ryan was unable to fight. The ref said something back and Jeremy shook his head frantically. He turned to Ryan, dropping down, wincing badly as his shaking hand touched Ryan’s neck. He grabbed the ref by the shirt.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do something!” He shouted, “S-Save him!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael ducked in the ring to try to calm Jeremy down.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“F-Fix him!” Jeremy cried, gripping at Michael’s jersey, “H-He doesn’t have a coach to fix him, y-you have to help!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He shoved Michael toward Ryan. Michael touched his neck, bending as though to listen for breath. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Rimmy, he’s...gone,” Michael muttered, shaking his head.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“N-No, I-I can’t-!” Jeremy insisted, leaning back over Ryan, “Y-You have to wake up!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He pressed his hands on Ryan’s chest like he was trying to give CPR, but didn’t know how to.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I-I can’t be a killer, you h-have to be okay!” He shrieked.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The cleanup crew was coming in to take Ryan’s body, but Jeremy screamed at them that he had to be okay. He tried to stop them from taking Ryan and Michael looped an arm around him to pull him back. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No!” Jeremy shouted, gripping Ryan’s wrist tightly, “He has to be okay!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Rimmy, he’s gone, it’s over,” Michael grunted, tugging not very hard on Jeremy.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jeremy slumped. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“L-Let me go with him, please,” he pleaded with the cleanup crew, “I...I sh-should help take care of his body!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The crew huddled to have a discussion.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We’re in position,” King spoke in Michael’s ear.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The cleanup crew declined to let Jeremy go with the body and he miserably backed down, letting Michael guide him away. They headed for the locker room while the crew carried Ryan out the side door. Jeremy had a clean shirt on before something went wrong.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, Rimmy Tim, what a spectacular performance,” a vaguely familiar voice spoke.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael and Jeremy turned toward the approaching owner. Michael was pretty sure it was the owner from the time at the pier. Jeremy puffed out a tired, annoyed sigh. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Had a difficult night, buddy, please fuck off,” he muttered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t think so,” the owner answered, “I think instead, I’m going to call some officials in to discuss your cheating.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why haven’t you already?” Jeremy wondered, crossing his arms.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I think we can resolve this without you getting hurt,” the owner suggested, “Just tell Ramsey to drop off Vagabond and I’ll gladly let you leave.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not happening,” Jeremy dismissed, “Go get an official. Hell, I’ll go with you. I’d like to see the evidence you’ll give them to prove I’m cheating.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Once it’s brought up, they’ll attempt to contact the transport team to see if Vagabond is really dead,” the owner pointed out, “They’ll also search you and your locker for a weapon, which I’m sure they’ll find. Along with whatever method you used to fake his death. Then we’ll see what the little slut was doing in the server room as well. You can take everyone down or just give me back what belongs to me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael felt the man’s words turn up the heat inside his chest until he was boiling, surging toward him. His hands wrapped around his throat and he slammed him into the lockers behind him. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You will not threaten my friends,” he whispered, “You will not hurt them.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You can’t kill me,” the man sneered, “I know Ramsey has told you that you can’t.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael leaned closer.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You must not know who I am,” he spoke softly, “Let me tell you. I am Mogar, a fiercely loyal friend with an infamously short fuse. Rimmy back there is my boyfriend. That little slut is my best friend. And the man you treat like property is a dear old friend of mine. You just specifically threatened three people I care a lot about. Do you know what that means?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His hands squeezed and his face twisted into a snarl as the man choked.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It means I will fucking kill you to protect them,” he growled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The man’s eyes widened and he scrambled, clawing at Michael’s hands. Michael glared at him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Now we will leave and you will let us,” he snarled, “You will not follow and you will not come for us or next time, this will not be a warning. Are we fucking clear?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The man struggled, nodding frantically. Michael let him go and he slid down the lockers. Jeremy tugged Michael’s sleeve, guiding him quickly from the building. He pushed Michael into his own passenger seat and got into the driver’s seat. Michael couldn’t see straight he was so pissed off. He turned off the earpiece and ripped it out of his ear. He slammed his fist into his car door. <em>Fucking asshole! Treating Ryan like-threatening Jeremy-calling Gavin-!</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jeremy’s hand squeezed his wrist and he jolted. His anger died down and he took Jeremy’s hand in his, puffing out a heavy breath. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Alright?” Jeremy prompted, squeezing lightly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Alright,” Michael confirmed, “Mad still.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, but that was badass if that’s any comfort,” Jeremy offered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael snorted in laughter, running a hand over his face. <em>Fucking Christ.</em></span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Probably the second to last chapter. So yay? I have no idea what I’m gonna do next. 😅</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Chapter 25</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael was pacing around outside his car, smoking as he and Jeremy waited for the others. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Michael, you and Vagabond...” Jeremy murmured from his perch on Michael’s trunk.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We used to fight and fuck,” Michael muttered around smoke, “A lot. Probably an unhealthy amount, but it never went past that. No...feelings. Not romantic ones anyway. I-I give a shit about him, but i-it’s not like with you. I-I mean, even if it-it <em>was,</em> it’s not any more. B-But it <em>wasn’t.</em> I-I mean, I’d never-“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Michael!” Jeremy interrupted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael stopped his frantic babbling and pacing to look over at him. He smiled lightly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s okay, I don’t think you’d cheat on me,” he assured him, “I was just curious about your past is all. You don’t seem to care about many people, so it’s just interesting to see it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael puffed out a relieved sigh. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sorry, I’m...I get a little crazy when I’m...” he mumbled, “You know...with someone.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t we all?” Jeremy snorted, “Come here.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael came over, putting his cigarette out so the smoke didn’t get in Jeremy’s face.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Michael...” Jeremy mumbled hesitantly, “I-I was thinking...m-maybe you...”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He cleared his throat, sitting up straighter and reached in his pocket. He was blushing as he held out his fist. He hesitated, meeting Michael’s eyes briefly before finally opening his hand. On his palm was a key ring with a single key and a strawberry keychain. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I thought s-since you already come over a lot...” he murmured, “You could-Y-You might like-I-I mean, I’m not s-saying move in! I-I just mean-“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael interrupted him by taking the key ring. He pulled out his own key ring and attached the two while Jeremy smiled shyly at him, completely red-faced. Then he reached up and took Jeremy’s blushing face in his hands and kissed him firmly. He hopped up on his trunk beside Jeremy who laid his head on his shoulder. Michael put his arm around them and they were quiet the few minutes it took the others to show up.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, how’d it go?” Jeremy called as King and Gavin exited through the back door of the van, “Everyone still in one piece?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yep, Vagabond’s still out, but he should wake up any minute now,” Gavin answered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael and Jeremy hopped down to move over to them. King braced himself as Michael moved toward him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>
    <span class="s1">Whack!</span>
  </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">King still stumbled a bit from the force of the hook to his face.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Micool!” Gavin exclaimed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“‘S okay,” King grunted, “We discussed this.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>
    <span class="s1">Whack!</span>
  </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He spat blood when Michael clocked him again.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You put everyone I care about in danger,” Michael growled, “And you didn’t even fucking tell me this was about my friend! From now on, you tell me when my people are in danger or you get a new fucking friend, got it?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He held his hand out.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Got it,” King agreed, shaking his hand.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">With that over, Jeremy started asking Gavin about the information he’d stolen while Michael peeked into the van to check on Ryan. Ray was sitting beside him, poking at his face.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Come on, you’re breathing, buddy,” he grunted, “I can tell you’re awake.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, I’m dead,” Ryan insisted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Dead don’t talk,” Ray snorted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ryan opened his eyes, looking up at Ray.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re my nurse, huh?” He murmured, “In that case, I have so many problems and I need you to nurse me back to health.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, I definitely believe you’ve got problems,” Ray muttered dryly, “And you’re barking up the wrong tree.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ve never seen a more right tree in my entire life,” Ryan argued.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m asexual, buddy,” Ray answered bluntly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I can work with that,” Ryan insisted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“The hell does that even mean??” Ray wondered, moving away from him, “Whatever, dude, I’m out. Mogar, you take over idiot watch.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Can I have your number at least?” Ryan called, sitting up on his elbows, “Let me take you out as thanks for helping save me!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ray rolled his eyes as he got out of the van and Michael laughed, shaking his head as he got in.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Damnit,” Ryan grumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How you doing, blue?” Michael asked as he sat next to Ryan, still grinning in amusement.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ryan sat up further, looking out the back door of the van.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Damn, he’s cute,” he muttered, ignoring Michael’s question, “You know him very well?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You have a serious degradation fetish, I just want you to know,” Michael snorted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You think I don’t know that?” Ryan scoffed, “What’s his name?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“BrownMan’s his work name,” Michael answered, shaking his head, “Still didn’t answer. How are you doing?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ryan finally looked at him and Michael winced at his bruised face. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What, are you still the only one allowed to hurt me?” Ryan mused, raising an eyebrow at him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael jolted toward him suddenly, grabbing him in a hug.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t you fucking do that again!” He shouted into Ryan’s shoulder, “Not even fake!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Can’t make promises, spitfire,” Ryan muttered as he hugged him back, “Life is too unpredictable.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He kissed Michael’s temple.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I think...I’m gonna stay after all,” he spoke quietly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Michael’s fists tightened in his shirt.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I thought you didn’t have a reason to stay,” he mumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His heart ached as bad as it had when Ryan originally said it. Ryan squeezed him closer, burying his face in Michael’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I lied,” he whispered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They held onto each other for awhile, clinging rather desperately until they were both more emotionally stable and able to exit the van. King offered to pay for dinner and the lot of them shuffled into a Waffle House. The server that seated them looked like they definitely didn’t get paid enough to deal with their bullshit, but Michael doubted the seven of them were the worst they’d seen. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So what are we doing about the fuckface?” Michael grunted as he stabbed at his food.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t worry, boi, we’ve got a plan!” Gavin chirped across from him, “But first, I think my boyfriend has something to say.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He turned to King and Ryan choked next to Michael. He had apparently not known the two were together and looked shocked to say the least, though he kept his opinions to himself.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes,” King spoke up, sitting up straighter, “I have a proposition for all of you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Is it an orgy, ‘cause I’m all in,” Jeremy chimed in from the other side of Michael.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You are <em>not,”</em> Michael grumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Awe,” Jeremy pouted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not an orgy,” King snorted, shaking his head, “A crew. Comprised of the seven of us, plus a few background employees. Just like what happened tonight, but on a larger scale and more permanent basis.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“A gang,” Ryan corrected.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“A crew,” King insisted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Uh-huh,” Ryan muttered, rolling his eyes, “More carefully laid plans, huh?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, but things would be different,” King assured him, “Collected here are the best of the best in every field. Together, we would be greater than the sum of our parts. Together, there’s nothing we couldn’t do. Together, none of us would ever need to fear being alone or without help again.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The table was quiet a moment.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, I got fuckall else to do,” Ray finally spoke, “And it gives me a great excuse to quit my day job. I’m in.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m also in,” Ryan quickly added, sitting forward a bit, “I’ll join.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">King’s eyebrows went up in surprise.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“This is what those guns were about, huh?” Jeremy guessed, “I mean, I’m in. I love you buying me things.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And I’m already in,” Gavin piped up, “Me and Wings both already agreed!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The collected group turned to look at Michael who raised an eyebrow at them.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What?” He grunted, “Isn’t it obvious my answer?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">King looked disappointed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Obviously I’m fucking in, you dumbasses,” Michael grumbled, “Everyone I care about is in, I can’t just not be in. Besides, I...like working with you assholes.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Everyone looked surprised and delighted. They were all glad he was with them. Like they liked him or something.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t look so fucking happy, ya gays,” he muttered, face red.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He squeezed Jeremy’s hand under the table, totally embarrassed that he was also so fucking happy. Turns out emotional progress <em>was</em> a thing he could do.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I left this one open for a sequel that may or may not take place. 😅</p><p>And another one gone and another one gone another one bites the dust</p><p>As always check me out on Twitter @1stworldmutant and follow the pinned tweet to become a patron saint by donating and get chapters a day early as well as exclusive drafts. May your paths stay lit, little stars~✨!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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